


To find hope in the Universe

by Majsasaurus



Series: To love and never let go [3]
Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, ChoKarui-sideship, Disabled Character, Discrimination, Discussions about suicide, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Graphic description of mental illness, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mental Health Issues, MitsuCho-Sideship, My boys will live a happy life, Physical Disability, Sand Siblings 2.0 is there too, the ending is happy trust me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 72,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28776735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majsasaurus/pseuds/Majsasaurus
Summary: It's time for the youngest generation of Ino-Shika-Cho to carve out their own paths in life and decide what to do with the legacy handed to them.The odds are against them, but they have one goal in mind, to forget the past, to look towards the future. To find hope.That is all they want.And who knew, some families are a curse to be born in.
Relationships: Akimichi Chouchou & Nara Shikadai & Yamanaka Inojin, Nara Shikadai/Yamanaka Inojin, Nara Shikamaru/Temari, Sai/Yamanaka Ino
Series: To love and never let go [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819945
Comments: 60
Kudos: 45





	1. Stigma

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the final story in the series To love and never let go! I hope you will like your stay 🖤
> 
> The first story is called To go down with the Sun  
> The second story is called To dance above the Stars
> 
> This work is built on the previous stories, but as always, this is readable without the first stories. I suggest you read them though, they're nice fics! Shikadai and Chocho are dual citizens to Suna and Kumo.
> 
> This work will contain graphic descriptions of living with a mental illness, and will also touch the subject suicide. This work will also feature somewhat discrimination and stigma towards individuals living with a mental illness, and none of those reflect the opinions of the author (me). Additional tags and warnings will be in the opening A/Ns!
> 
> But most importantly THE ENDING WILL BE HAPPY. This is the time for my boys to find their happy ending!
> 
> I hope you are ready for the plunge!

Shikadai wanted to smash his forehead down the keyboard of his work laptop, anything to parry the chatter of the three boys the Tsuchikage had assigned under his care. He was on his first work trip abroad as an official employee of the DCE committee over the nations, and the location had been Iwa, Stone Country.

He had packed his bags, left Inori, his dog, at home and gave his goodbyes to Inojin, his boyfriend, kissed him for an unreasonable long time, and hopped on the train up North.

To be completely honest, yes, he had been anxious about this whole trip and as soon as he had arrived, he had regretted his choice to leave Inori at home. If she were here, he’d be able to bring his hand into her fur – a sensation which always affectively calmed him down when his thoughts turned darker, and now she wasn’t.

He was going to be away for just three days. Just two nights and three days. Today was already his second day and tomorrow he would get to return home and bury his face in Inori’s soft fur and kiss and hug Inojin.

Yesterday had been a good day, and he had functioned just like any other person. He had laughed and smiled and been in a such exciting mood, managing to keep the anxiety far away. Today was not as fortunate.

“But like… what are we going to do?” one of the boys asked. “The next DCE will be in Suna, so why do we have to do a hassle here?” His voice gave it all away; he was not keen to work on this project at all.

The team of three boys were genin the Tsuchikage just have shoved onto Shikadai. The official representant from Iwa – she who Shikadai was going to have meetings with – had gotten a sudden high fever and had to stay at home, which led the Tsuchikage to assign three _stupid brats_ to help Shikadai with the work he had to do.

It would have helped more to let him work alone.

“I don’t know, you can make a mind map over things you think represent Iwa and come up with ideas you want to be visible or presented at the next DCE,” Shikadai said, continuing reading the report. He wished he could tell the kids to leave him alone. He could work alone just fine. He didn’t need three genin who didn’t know what they were doing disturbing him, but Iwa had invited him and to kick out their employees would be such a rude gesture that Shikadai didn’t want to risk it. “You get one hour. Come to me with your mind map after that. And be quiet, I got work to do.”

All he wanted was the kids to leave him.

“But like… what has already been done on the previous conferences?” another of the boys asked.

“It’s best we look up the protocols from the other DCEs to get ideas,” the third one said and started their computer. “Mister Shikadai, what is the password?”

“You don’t know the password to the files?” Shikadai asked as he got up from his comfortable desk chair. “What a drag. It’s 73959dce. Now get to work and don’t disturb me.”

He had to admit that it felt satisfying to be called ‘mister’ by these kids. He let himself smirk.

The boys got to work, began clicking up old protocols to gather ideas for proposing what Iwa could bring forth to the next DCE, and Shikadai returned to his computer. He had to build a first draft of a schedule.

“Let’s check up the first DCE, the one in Kumo!”

Shikadai felt his stomach grow cold, the smirk gone in a flash. He stared at text blurring together into nothing, trying to breath evenly through his nose. He could control himself. He had gotten good at this. He didn’t need to –

“Wasn’t that the one that ended in a terror attack?”

Shikadai swallowed.

“Yeah,” the other one responded. “Let’s read the drama.”

“I doubt you find something interesting about Iwa in there, since it was a Kumo-only conference,” Shikadai said, throat dry. He briefly wondered if the boys noticed the change in his voice.

“But this is fun,” the boy replied. “Explosions and drama and stuff. Makes a good story.”

Shikadai resumed to stare at his computer.

_Makes a good story. Fucking hell._

“The terrorist was one of the guests,” the one who had begun investigating said.

“Ah, yes, wasn’t he like, sick in his head or something?”

“Oh yes,” the first one replied. “Why would you let loose someone who is dangerous?”

“People could have died,” one of them said. “Do you know if he is in an asylum now? If he was insane he should be in one.”

Shikadai closed his eyes, now completely focused on only breathing.

“I would be surprised if he wasn’t,” the first one said. “With a straight-jacket and all that stuff.”

Shikadai put his hands above his ears in a discreet manner, anything to muffle out what the idiot kids were talking about, like they talked about a movie, a character, a person without feelings. They didn’t know. They would never know.

_So, this is what people think about me._

_Mm, yes, Shikadai, they hate you, they hate you, they hate you._

_Breathe in and out… breathe…_

“What was his name? I want to look him up,” the first kid asked.

“Wait, let’s see, they didn’t write the name out to protect his identity,” the researcher said. “I wonder if it is in the - oh wait – here!”

There was a piercing silence.

“Nara Shikadai of the Sand…” the second kid said.

Shikadai knew they were staring at him.

He chose to not open his eyes for a while.

“You don’t know…” was the only thing he managed to say. He still hadn’t opened his eyes and he was still having his hands over his ears. His heart beat hard in his chest and for a second he lost sensation in his feet when his nervous system was in full bloom to brood into an attack.

“How come you are here?” one of the boys just said, which such an honest confusion that Shikadai snapped his eyes open.

“So you think people like me are unable to work, huh?” he snarled. “You think I’m too _insane_ to have a job?” He took a sharp breath, not letting any other boy speak. “You think I deserve to be locked away in an asylum _forever_ because I had a psychotic episode when I was fourteen?”

“I mean – “ another boy tried, but it was useless to lie now. Shikadai knew already what they thought about individuals living with a mental illness. “We thought – “

“I know what you thought,” Shikadai said. He stared at the kids with a gaze cold as ice and hard as steel, biting his teeth together. It was visible in his jaw muscles when he tensed up. “You think people with mental illnesses can’t be part of society, don’t you?”

“I have never met one – “ came the reply.

“Because we hide it from others,” Shikadai interrupted. “Because it’s not worth facing other people’s stigma, not worth getting the same dirty looks as you over there is giving me right now.”

One of the boys quickly changed his facial expression after being called out.

“But how… why aren’t you in an asylum?” he asked.

Shikadai smacked his hands against his cheeks, frustration taking over.

“This is treatable,” he snarled. “Not curable, but treatable. Just because of reasons I could not control when I was a teenager I have been branded forever. You just fucking proved that.”

There was a long silence. The boys stared at him in between exchanging glances with each other.

“It’s a really scary experience,” Shikadai finally said, almost in a mumble. “Being in a psychosis. When what you feel is real, and everything you see and hear and can think of is that other people want to bring you harm. It is terrifying. And yet, all people see is a dangerous boy, not a scared one.” Shikadai sighed, staring down. “That is so demeaning.”

“Did you get the scar on your cheek from the explosion?” one of them asked.

Shikadai touched the pink scar across his cheek, where a knife made of Ink once had travelled, ripping his skin open.

“No.” He didn’t want to say more. He didn’t owe them an explanation. 

There was an awkward silence, until one of the kids chose to break it.

“Are you hallucinating things right now?”

He snapped.

“Get out!” Shikadai almost yelled, because _that one question_ was the most hurtful out of all of them. He was usually okay with educating friends and co-workers what this illness was about and how he could react to certain elements and why, asking for respect and understanding. But if someone bluntly asked “if he was hallucinating _right now_ ” he lost it. He found it so rude, so intrusive to ask him that.

Most of the times, the answer was no. The medication drowned out the voices very well, and the one main voice he usually was hearing was a kind one, mostly nattering on something he could easily block out. The evil voices were muffled or gone ninety percent of his time.

He almost never experienced visual hallucinations, which he was thankful for. He had experienced them somewhat sometimes, but those were rare. Delusions were also under control, or he was able to talk through them with Inojin to help him keep track on what was real and what was not.

The sudden raise in his voice must’ve startled the trio of idiot genin children, since they hauled themselves up from their chairs. One of them even exposed his kunai.

“Let’s leave!” one of them yelled and they rushed through the door, leaving Shikadai alone.

He heaved a shaking breath and slumped down in his chair again. Now he was at least alone and could focus on his work. If only the text on his screen wasn’t blurry of tears in his eyes.

Being alone now felt like taunting.

_No one wants to work with me._

He had wanted to be alone. He rubbed his eyes and remained in that curled position – with his hands across his face, leaning against the desk. It had been different if they hadn’t run out with fear shining in their eyes. They had been afraid of him.

After sorting out his thoughts he decided to keep sketching out the schedule, with poor result. His head remained empty.

“Hi,” a voice belonging to the boss of the dual citizen department of Iwa sounded in the doorway. “I heard you chased the team away.”

She didn’t sound accusing at all. She sounded sad.

“I didn’t chase them away,” Shikadai said. “They left me.”

“Why?”

Shikadai shrugged.

“They looked up the Kumo conference,” he flatly said, trying to keep his voice even. “Found out about me.”

“Were they nasty to you?” the boss asked. The upper hierarchy in the Dual Citizen Committee knew who Shikadai was and what condition he had. When Shikadai got the position, when he was about to turn seventeen, he had heard some of his colleagues had been against him joining their team. He found later out that his father, Naruto and Gaara had vouched for him.

_Vouched for him._

How humiliating it was to go from having been someone who once was spoken so well of, the Nara heir with the best of futures and a possible heir for the Kazekage seat, a _prodigy_ , to break down into a person other people had to vouch for.

All Shikadai had asked for was for other people to realise that he wasn’t unpredictable and always did his best. To see _him_ , Shikadai, instead of the disorder. It wasn’t, however, always that easy for his colleagues.

“Just ignorant,” Shikadai said after a few seconds.

The boss came closer and Shikadai shifted to look away from her. He had turned nauseous of the words those three boys said. He shouldn’t care what three nobodies from Iwa he won’t ever meet again after he return to Konoha thought about him, but it was so hard to not take it personal and let the voices feed on his poor self-esteem when it came to discussing his issues.

The boss looked over at Shikadai’s computer, at the half-done sketch of a schedule.

“Are you capable of continuing?” she asked.

Shikadai nodded.

“I can do this,” he said. “Don’t worry. I can do this.”

The boss didn’t seem convinced but left him alone.

After Shikadai had sent in the first draft of a schedule – they had only a few guests confirmed – he walked to the inn he was staying at, locking himself inside the room. He had no interest to roam around the streets of Iwa, not alone. Right now his chest was feeling tight and his head was filled with darkness.

He sat in the bed and reached after his guitar he had brought with him. His escape. With fingers on the strings, he played a little tune, a guitar solo version of a song he liked. Creating sheet notes, or simply figuring out how to play a song by listening to the song on repeat – and drive Inojin mad in the process – was an amazing hobby. Playing the guitar was his safe haven, a motion and task that often managed to calm Shikadai down or get his thoughts running a little bit easier when he struggled.

This was not an easy disorder to deal with, but it was possible to live a fulfilling life with it, even when Shikadai felt like walking in darkness.

After a while his thoughts sorted themselves out after being concentrated on the guitar for half an hour and Shikadai placed the instrument down on the free side of the bed. He nestled down a little more comfortable in the bed, opened a can of soda he had bought earlier and reached for the telephone on the bedside table. He squeezed the mouthpiece in between his ear and shoulder while tapping in the phone number to the Yamanaka’s house.

Inojin had stayed at his parents while Shikadai was away. Ino had, very intentionally, suggested Inojin would stay at their place. She probably missed having him hanging around since he had moved in together with Shikadai into an apartment of their own. Inojin had not opposed her suggestion and had decided to sleep the two nights at his parent’s house instead of being by himself at theirs.

“Hello, you’ve called the Yamanakas, Ino speaking,” Ino answered the phone.

“Hi, it’s Shikadai,” Shikadai said.

“Oh, hello!” Ino said. “Is your workday over?”

“Yeah, it is,” Shikadai said. “Is Inojin there?”

“Wait a moment, I’ll go grab him,” Ino said and Shikadai could hear her smile through the phone. He heard Ino place the mouthpiece down on their table and yell _Inojin? Shikadai is calling!_

He didn’t hear Inojin’s reply but waited patiently. Time was all he had now. Soon he’d go to sleep since he had no intentions of going out alone. He didn’t want to see other people right now. All he wanted was to talk with his boyfriend.

It took a while before Inojin came to the phone, but that gave Shikadai all the time to drink some soda while he waited.

Finally, Inojin picked up the telephone.

“Hi,” he said, voice radiating fondness and affection. “I waited for your call.”

“Hi, sweetie,” Shikadai replied. “I miss you.”

“Aws,” Inojin said. “I miss you too. But you’re coming home tomorrow! And then we’ll kiss and all that.”

“Aren’t you getting spoiled by your parents?” Shikadai asked and Inojin chuckled on the other side of the line.

“Yes,” Inojin said. “And grandma has been here too.”

“So, basically, you haven’t missed me at all,” Shikadai teased.

“Hey!” Inojin burst out. “I _have_ missed you, you fool. How are you? Tell me about your fancy workshop with your colleague.”

That made Shikadai pinch his lips together. He took another sip of his drink, shifted himself in the bed, anything to not have to answer.

“She didn’t come,” he said.

“Oh.” Inojin was silent for a while. “Why?”

“She had a fever,” Shikadai mumbled. “I got three genin kids to work with. It didn’t end well.”

“Oh no,” Inojin said, already knowing what had happened. It had happened a few times already, situations that had made Shikadai keep quiet of his illness, that had planted a seed of fear of stigma.

Because there was a lot of stigma surrounding psychotic disorders.

_Dangerous._

_Insane._

_Should be locked away from society._

Inojin knew how much phrases and words like that pierced Shikadai’s heart.

“Did they know of you from beforehand?” Inojin asked, slowly, as if trying the waters. Shikadai shrugged, even if he knew Inojin couldn’t see him.

“They found out.”

“Are you okay?” Inojin asked. “You got your guitar, don’t you? Do you need – “

“I’m fine,” Shikadai muttered. “Just… quite sad.” His face scrunched together at revisiting that moment in the office, the feeling of being so naked and hated. He could never escape that feeling. Never escape his past. And that alone could sometimes suck out his energy and happiness, like right now. He was walking in darkness, alone.

“Have you had someone to talk to?” Inojin sounded worried.

“The boss came,” Shikadai said. “She understood. We talked a bit.”

“You think you need to take a sleeping pill?” Inojin asked.

“I think so,” Shikadai mumbled. When backlashes like this happened, if he got an extra dose of anxiety and mental nausea like today, he took a sleeping pill to help him sleep. Otherwise, the risk of lying awake, overthinking, was too big to risk it. This was so ironic. As a child he never had problems sleeping – ever – and could sleep whenever, wherever, whereas now, he had to carefully map his sleeping patterns. It was part of his self-care.

He was able to sleep soundly most of the nights, but he wanted to avoid putting a snowball in motion with a downward spiral. Better get help to sleep, so he wouldn’t dislodge the streak of good mood he had had many weeks now.

“Good,” Inojin said. There was not much he could do to help, him being seven hundred kilometres away from Iwa, but just his voice, his calming voice, was exactly what Shikadai needed.

“So, tell me about your day,” Shikadai murmured into the phone, knowing the bill was going to be expensive. He was going to pay for the phone bill at the same time as he checked out of the hotel, but he was prepared and had put aside a little bit of money for this. Talking with Inojin was what matters the most – and would always matter the most.

After they shut the call off Shikadai took his meds, including the sleeping pill, brushed his teeth and snuggled deep under the cover in his bed, with a book as company to keep his mind focused and not think the destructive thoughts that could attack him like lightning from a clear sky.

He got sleep.

The third and final day in Iwa was short. It consisted only of a meeting with his boss, him presenting the sketch and a lousy list the three idiot genin had come up with of ideas the Iwanians could contribute with during the incoming DCE.

The DCE was in nine months, so there wasn’t any rush, but Shikadai was busy with the planning, and had been ever since the last DCE.

After the meeting he made his way towards the train station, annoyed and disappointed over this whole work trip. Technically he could have done all of this work back at home in Konoha and just have the meeting over a phone conference instead of getting his butt all up to the mountain chain in the North West.

But he was going to get to hug Inojin and Inori, his dog, today! And that was all that mattered right now.

Shikadai opened the door to the Yamanakas without knocking.

“Hello,” he announced. “I’m back!”

“Shikadai!” he heard Inojin yell from the kitchen. “Finally.”

Shikadai kicked off his shoes and walked into the hall, when Inojin came around the corner. Shikadai dropped his backpack and reached down to be able to kiss Inojin on his mouth. The heigh difference they had when Inojin was as good as all his time in a seated position was sometimes in the way when Shikadai had to reach down to kiss and hug him, but they were so used to this by now. This was their reality after all, and they were okay with it.

“I missed you,” Shikadai murmured.

“I missed you too,” Inojin said back, smiling. He grabbed the push rims of his wheelchair and backed a little bit away from Shikadai when Ino and Sai came around the corner to greet him as well.

“We were just having dinner,” Ino said. “Do you want to join us?”

“Sure,” Shikadai said and looked down at Inojin. “But after this you better pack your stuff, because we are going to fetch Inori.” He looked at a collar hanging on the wall in the Yamanaka hall. “I see you have had her here too.”

“I had her here the first day,” Inojin said and began wheeling backwards into the kitchen. Shikadai followed him. “Then your dad fetched her. He claimed they missed having her at their home.”

“They have probably spoiled her so much,” Shikadai sighed. “They give ham to her under the table instead of her real food.”

“Sure, sure,” Inojin said, grinning, because Shikadai knew Inojin used to give ham under the table to Inori as well. “Poor Inori, getting good tasting ham.”

Shikadai looked over the already made table and the pot in the middle of it.

“Oh my, this looks delicious,” he said and Ino smiled at his compliment.

“We got slow cooked oxen meat, carrots and onions,” she said. “Please, take some.”

Shikadai sat down at the place that had for many years been ‘his’ chair around the Yamanaka dinner table, the place beside Inojin. He reached for the stew and poured a bit on his plate. Ino didn’t have to be so formal with him, since he was as good as part of this family already, but she liked being nice, like an extra mother to him. Shikadai didn’t complain. He really liked hanging around in the Yamanaka household.

Since he and Inojin moved in together they didn’t spend too much time hanging around their parents’ homes, which was why this felt extra nice.

Not that they weren’t exactly alone even if they had moved into their own apartment. Ino and Sai had an extra key, and even if they always knocked before entering, they liked to use it.

Even close to three years after Inojin’s accident that left him paralysed from the bellybutton down they could feel guilt or worry, meaning they liked to check in on them every week and stay for a cup of tea. Ino would bring flowers to them quite often as well, but that was probably mostly an excuse to get to visit her baby.

Close to three years ago Inojin had fallen down a ravine and landed in the unluckiest way of all, having his spine snapped in half at the impact from the rock bottom of the ravine. The splinters of the broken vertebra had been pushed into his spinal cord – the network of nerves controlling the body and sending both signals of movement down to the limbs as well as signals about sensation up to the brain.

When the broken vertebra pushed into his spinal cord, it teared the nerves and pinched them – ultimately cutting off the highway of signals from and to the lower body and his brain. Such damage was irreversible and paralysed Inojin in the same instant.

A few of his nerves survived, one layer of nerves leading to the front of his thighs. He had poor sensation there – not the same as he once had – but he felt touch there and could somewhat utilise the first layer of muscle in his thighs. Other than that, his legs were paralysed.

Ino and Sai had taken Inojin’s injury hard – not in the way of them living in denial, they had since the very first day accepted their child had to live his life a little differently from that day on, a life with a disability – but in the way of them feeling like they could have _avoided_ the situation that led to his fall. That was the reason they did so much for him, were overbearing even in some situations, like this time around, when they asked if Inojin wanted to live with them for the three days Shikadai was away.

Inojin could manage all on his own too, but who said no to free food and being spoiled?

They enjoyed the stew and chatted about this and that before Shikadai grew restless. He wanted to hug Inori now.

“Come on,” he gently said to Inojin after the food was finished. “Let’s get our dog.”

“Yeah,” Inojin said, eyes gleaming. Even if Inori officially was Shikadai’s dog and trained to calm him down during panic attacks, if he happened to get them, Inojin had claimed her as his dog as well. Shikadai was okay with that, especially since Inojin took just as much care of Inori as he did.

Shikadai waited patiently Inojin to gather the clothes he had brought with him to his parents and for him to go past the bathroom before they made themselves ready to leave.

“Come again,” Ino said as she leaned against the wall while Shikadai and Inojin put on shoes.

“The chance you come barging into our home is so great we don’t have to worry about that,” Inojin said, making Ino rolling her eyes. “Yes, yes. Thank you for letting me stay at your place.”

“Pleasure, my boy,” Ino said and quickly hugged Inojin. Before they left, Sai came and did the same, and then it was time to get going.

Inojin rolled down the ramp they had by their porch and Shikadai walked beside him.

“Want to hold hands?” Inojin asked and Shikadai smiled to him. There was a way to hold hands, even if one manoeuvred a wheelchair, and that was for Shikadai to have his arm at an angle, holding Inojin’s hand and basically pulling him with him. That was Inojin could push and steer with one hand. There was a new system for everything, but most things _did_ work, even if they had to do it differently.

They walked and wheeled down the road to the Nara residence. The Nara family had built a proper ramp up to their home as well, and with just one simple help push from Shikadai Inojin got up to the door.

“Hello!” Shikadai yelled when he opened the door for them. “I’m back!”

They didn’t have to wait even a second before they heard paws and claws run over the wooden planks and Inori, the black, fluffy dog with a white paw, rushed around the corner to jump on her hindlegs up to Shikadai.

“Hey, girl,” Shikadai said as he hugged Inori, who could barely stand still out of happiness over the fact that Shikadai had returned after three days. Her tail whipped back and forth and after having showered Shikadai in kisses she noticed Inojin was also there, and turned her attention to him.

“Hi, Inori,” Inojin let out as she jumped up in his lap. She was quite big and didn’t really fit, but she loved getting up in his lap – he did sit down after all and Inori was a cleaver girl.

“She’s happy to see you again,” Temari said when she came up to them. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Shikadai said, looking around the hall. Shikamaru hadn’t yet come to greet them, which Shikadai found odd. “Where is dad?”

“Oh, he is in our bedroom,” Temari said. “Speaking on the phone.” Her face burst into a smile. “You see, Mirai’s baby is born.”

Shikadai stared up at Temari before his lips turned into a smile. The whole family had eagerly been waiting for months for Mirai’s first born to come. Shikadai had visited the woman he saw as his older sister every now and then and he had gotten to feel the pressure of a baby’s foot from the inside of Mirai’s belly, he had rejoiced and waited together with her and her fiancé for the baby’s arrival.

He knew it would be any day now, the last week of March, but hadn’t spared her a single thought during his stressful work trip. Turns out miracles happen, even when he’s battling his own mind.

“Really?”

“Really,” Temari confirmed, still smiling. “Born this morning.”

A smile broke free on Shikadai’s lips. He had become an uncle!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you liked it! Welcome on board on this journey!
> 
> The chapter number will probably change when I write the ending.
> 
> Uploading schedule is every fourth day, with possibly some delays here and there.
> 
> Let me know what you think :) Comments and kudos are appreciated.
> 
> Where to find me:  
> twitter: Majsasaurus  
> tumblr: unioncolours


	2. The deepest dream

Mirai’s baby was born!

Sarutobi Mirai, daughter of Sarutobi Asuma and Kurenai, had ever since she was a tiny girl been taken care of by Shikamaru. He had babysat her, played with her, watched her grow up as if she were his own daughter.

In a sense, she was. Shikamaru had skilfully taken over the role of a father figure for Mirai, and Mirai had multiple times told them how happy she was for having Shikamaru there by her side, even after Shikadai as well was born.

Mirai had grown up to be like a big sister for Shikadai, playing with him when he was small, and when he was going to day-care Mirai had insisted to bring him herself there. She had taken Shikadai’s little hand in her own, said ‘Come on now, they wait for you, Little Shiki’, and waddled along the gravel roads with Temari walking behind them, trying to not smile at the cuteness.

Needless to say, the two of them had grown up like siblings, like big sister and little brother. Mirai was the first person Shikadai came out to years ago. She was also there to fight for his honour when he was publicly ridiculed in a meeting. She had always been there for him, visited him at the hospital, everything, through all the highs and lows.

Now she had become an adult and had a partner since many years, and today her baby was born.

“A boy,” Temari told Shikadai. “They don’t have a name yet.”

“When can we visit her?” he asked, now hyped to congratulate his sister for becoming a mother.

“They have to stay at the hospital until tomorrow for checking, and then they come home,” Temari said and scratched Inori behind her ear when she came up to Temari after having kissed Inojin enough. She smiled gently to Shikadai. “Are you okay? I heard your second day was a little tough. Your boss called us.”

“It was nothing,” Shikadai quickly said. “I got rid of the distractions and could finish my task.”

“That sounds good,” Temari said. Finishing tasks was important for Shikadai’s self-confidence, since the times he struggled he could leave tasks unmade because of a myriad of reasons, and the times he could do it through the struggles counted as victories. Temari cast her gaze over the collar and leash hanging on their wall. “I guess Inori is all ready to go home to you. She had peed and pooped a moment ago and we went a trail in the forest in the morning. She is good to go.”

Shikadai patted Inori on her back and she looked up in his eyes in the wait for a command. She recognized Shikadai as her real pack leader, though she was happy to listen to anyone.

“Shall we go home, Nori-Girl?” Shikadai asked and Inori barked once. He threaded the collar over her head and secured the leash. “Thanks for taking care of her. Tell dad I’ll call him later tonight. I want to hear about Mirai’s baby.”

“Sure,” Temari said. “Glad to see you again. We’ll tell you how Mirai and her baby are doing.”

Shikadai, Inojin and Inori made their way out of the Nara house and towards their own apartment.

Their whole family was gathered again.

Their apartment was just big enough for the two of them, but to the untrained eye seemed big. The blueprints were amazing, the apartment designed to lack all narrow spaces and doors. The kitchen, designed as accessible, and the living room were one big, combined area and leading out of this big space was one sliding door into their bedroom and another door leading into their big bathroom.

Chocho was envious of their bathroom. The size of it came from it having to be perfect for a wheelchair user. Inojin needed extra space and he had no problem in this bathroom. The shower was big, the toilet seat had rails he could use to move himself around, and the sink was a little lower than the sink in other bathrooms.

As soon as Shikadai removed the collar from Inori, she ran into the living room and claimed her bed by the side of the sofa. She had a bone there, and since she hadn’t touched it in three days, she found it tasty. She placed the bone between her strong jaws and began chewing. The sound of it felt like home, like happiness. Inori had lived with Shikadai for over two years now.

“Are you that tired from having been at mum and dad?” Shikadai chuckled to her. He turned towards Inojin, who was in the process of getting off his coat. “Come to the sofa with me. Snuggles.”

“You bet,” Inojin said and wheeled into the living room, up to the sofa.

He let his feet slide off the footplate with the help of tattoos made out of special Ink he could control. Along all four sides of both his legs he had lines tattooed. The front lines ended at his thighs, the side lines ended at his pelvis and the back lines ended a bit above his level of injury. When they had been tattooed, everyone had hoped for him to learn to walk with them, which he technically could, but at a price – a price called neuropathic pain and the risk of falling.

When one becomes paralysed, even with limited movement, the road back to walking is infinite and, in many cases, the goal is unreachable. Inojin had, after a year of struggling to walk, and trying to walk through pain and dragging himself along the floor when his knees for seemingly no reason just buckled under him, come to the consensus that he _couldn’t_ rely on walking with only the tattoos anymore. His spinal cord was too damaged.

Now he mainly used the tattoos to move his legs independently, so he didn’t have to manually move them with his hands, like placing his feet down from the footplate, and stand up for a second to sit down in the sofa.

Shikadai snuggled close to Inojin, taking one of his legs to bring it up in his lap. Since Inojin’s feet were mostly cold, Shikadai loved warming them up, holding them in between his hands, even if Inojin couldn’t feel his touch there.

“Feels good to be home,” Shikadai said. “I was a little stressed about messing with the routine. But I made it somewhat.”

“Was Hama there?” Inojin silently asked, reaching for Shikadai’s fingers to curl his own around them.

‘Hama’ was the name of one of the voices, the nice one that usually was the only breakthrough voice trough the medication. Shikadai had given a name to the voice, Hama, mostly to make himself to feel more human, that it was not just some voice making him crazy. Hama was the only voice with a name.

“Talking about the mountain range for most of the time,” Shikadai said. “It was okay.”

Right now, even Hama was quiet and Shikadai enjoyed this moment. To feel normal, with the boy he loved there in his lap.

Inojin looked curiously at him before reaching one finger up against his chin.

“You haven’t shaved,” he said, voice swimming in affection.

“I’ll shave tonight,” Shikadai said as he rubbed his own chin. Since becoming a young adult, Shikadai’s beard growth had gotten a jumpstart. He wasn’t sure what he thought of getting a beard like his father and father before him, and for now he felt more comfortable with shaving it. But sometimes he liked rubbing the little stub, feeling the hairs, and getting a sense of pride in his chest. Pride over making it so far that his beard began growing.

They were eighteen years old now, on their nineteenth. The world lied ahead of them.

With the sound of Inori chewing her bone on her mattress beside the sofa as a background noise, Shikadai shuffled over to be able to lie down by Inojin’s side and intertwined their legs. Inojin pressed his arm under Shikadai’s neck and drew him close, kissing his forehead. With the warmth of each other, they fell asleep, Shikadai with his nose tucked against Inojin’s neck. They both had a smile on their lips.

“Are you ready?” Shikadai asked. He was already standing right by their door and Inojin had just gotten prepared for leaving the house. Inori sat by Shikadai’s legs, sharing his excitement to get outside for a while.

“Yeah,” Inojin said and lifted one of his feet to thread the shoe over it. He activated the tattoos around his foot to stiffen it up while he dressed the shoe on it. This was one of the times where the tattoos were the best aid he could get. Dressing a shoe over a floppy, paralysed foot was a drag, and the tattoos made the foot feel more like it should. He put the shoe of his other foot, made sure he sat comfortably, that no clothes had gotten wrinkly under him and smiled up at Shikadai. “Let’s go.”

The elevator was close to their door and they rode it down to the ground floor. Inori was trained to ride the elevator and she waited patiently for the doors to open again. Inojin held her leash around his wrist while Shikadai was looking down at a little note.å

“So, Mirai moved just a few weeks ago, and I hadn’t the time to visit her in her new home, so this will be the first time we see her new flat,” Shikadai said after reading the address on his note.

“Who wants to move when being nine-months pregnant?” Inojin asked as they curved down the road Mirai and her fiancé lived at. The road was paved and smooth, making it easy for Inojin to just roll on and about, with Inori happy trotting by his side. Some of the roads in Konoha didn’t give him the luxury of moving around without extra hassle, with pavement ending in puddles and safe roads just disappearing, replaced by unmaintained gravel roads that were a struggle to wheel over.

“They’re crazy, I agree. Apparently their old flat was too small for a baby,” Shikadai shrugged. He looked down at the road they were walking on, smiling a little bit at the smoothness of it. “This road is nice at least.”

Before Inojin’s injury he would never think twice of the road he was walking on. He would just move from road to road over obstacle after obstacle, never thinking twice, because he could use his legs and easily get around. The reality wasn’t the same for Inojin anymore, and Shikadai had as adapted his own thinking to think through Inojin’s perspective.

“I know,” Inojin said and gave the wheelchair an extra strong push so Shikadai had to almost jog to keep his tempo. “Feels really nice.”

They found the house complex to which Mirai has moved.

“So, they live on the second floor,” Shikadai said and he opened the door for Inojin and Inori.

“Cool,” Inojin said and scanned the bottom floor of the stairwell. He licked his lips. “Where is the elevator?”

Shikadai looked around. Where was the elevator?

“Oh shit,” he mumbled when he realised that there was no elevator in this building.

Inojin deflated in his chair out of disappointment.

“So, the road here was smooth sailing and then this house doesn’t have a fucking elevator,” he spat, not sparing the curse words. It was always such a disappointment when he had looked forward to something, only to realise that he was unable to do it due to how he moved around.

“Why didn’t she tell me there wasn’t an elevator here?” Shikadai mumbled. “Wait, I’ll check a thing.” He walked up the first flight of stairs and came down again. “Their door is the first after the stairs. If we make it up the stairs – “

“ _If_ we make it up,” Inojin repeated. “ _You_ will make it up. I’ll go home again.”

“No, no, no,” Shikadai said. “Don’t give up. We can try. It can take how long it takes, please, I’ll wait for you, let’s try.”

Inojin sighed, and after a moment’s hesitation, lined the wheelchair by the staircase.

“We are going to have to do this the slow way,” he said, when he for a short while sat up from the chair. He grabbed the rail by the wall, leaning against it, before sinking down onto the second step of the stairs. He stared down and Shikadai waited patiently. “I can’t walk in stairs. It’s not even that it’s too painful, I just _can’t._ Even with the tattoos. I’m not strong enough to push myself upwards in stairs.” He smacked the side of his calf. “Useless meat.”

Inori sat by Inojin’s feet, sensing he was sad. She placed her nose on his kneecap, like she always did to Shikadai if he cried. Inojin scratched her head.

Shikadai sat down by Inojin’s side.

“We take it as slow as you need,” he said. “I can also carry you if you want.”

Carrying wasn’t the most optimal way of getting around either. Shikadai was strong and could carry Inojin, but it had its own downsides beside the lingering feeling of embarrassment attached to it.

Inojin twisted his head to look at the staircase, measuring the number of stairs. He could get up on his butt as well, but his wrists would begin to hurt from the strain after all those stairs. To lift one’s entire bodyweight up along stairs was heavy on the wrist and shoulders. He had practised it in physiotherapy and avoided it if possible.

“You can carry me,” Inojin finally muttered, as in a defeat. Even if he sometimes became carried, it still felt embarrassing, three years later, to accept the fact he needed help in even the simplest of situations. Like getting up a flight of stairs.

“I’ll bring this up,” Shikadai said and lifted the wheelchair up to carry it to the correct floor.

“Be careful!” Inojin yelled after him. He hated when other people moved his chair around. Shikadai and his parents were okay, since they knew what they were doing, but the list of people Inojin trusted his wheelchair to ended there. It was just such an unnerving feeling of basically giving one’s _legs_ away to another person, to move around.

“I know,” Shikadai replied and came back after carefully placing the wheelchair at the right floor. “Okay, then. Let’s get you to stand up a bit.”

Shikadai brought his arms under Inojin’s armpits and helped him stand. Inojin could stand rather well on his own when the tattoos were activated, as long as he held onto something. He had to stand for at least half an hour every day to keep his bones in his legs healthy, so this wasn’t anything he was unfamiliar with. When he stood for half an hour, however, it was with a standing frame he could lean against and not in an unfamiliar staircase.

“Front or back?” Shikadai asked.

“If you have the strength, then front,” Inojin said.

“Pfft, of course I have the strength,” Shikadai scoffed, crouched a bit to gain strength in his legs, and lifted Inojin up.

With the help of the tattoos, Inojin brought his legs around Shikadai’s waist, as Shikadai held around Inojin’s bottom to keep him up.

“Okay,” he said. “Inori, come with us.”

He began walking up the stairs, with Inojin in his arms and Inori padding beside them. There was a reason Inojin liked being carried in the front. That meant he could look down at Shikadai’s face, which he was doing right now with a pleased smirk on his lips.

“You are panting,” he said. “Am I that heavy? I thought I had lost weight the last time I checked.”

“You are not heavy,” Shikadai said. “But if you failed to notice, we are walking in stairs.”

“Hah ha,” Inojin said. They _finally_ reached the final step and Shikadai could let Inojin’s legs flop down against the floor. Inojin sat down in his wheelchair – in his security, again.

“We made it,” Shikadai said, giving Inojin a kiss. “See, whatever problem we get, we solve it.”

“You win this round,” Inojin said. “You knock on the door.”

Shikadai knocked and after an alarmingly long time of waiting the door opened. They had to wait so long Inojin had turned pale, afraid of this being the wrong house or wrong time and they wouldn’t be home. Then all the struggle to get up the stairs would’ve been for nothing.

But the door opened, finally, and Mirai’s fiancé stood in the other side, with a gentle face and warm gaze. Mirai had dated him for many years, and they were going to get married when their baby was a little bit older.

“Hello,” he said. “Welcome.” He had met Shikadai and Inojin many times before, but when he opened the door fully and saw the wheelchair, he stared a few extra seconds on it. Inojin looked back up at him, questioning the man’s glance. “I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. “We should’ve said this house didn’t have an elevator. I don’t know how we could have forgotten; I mean, I know you are – ”

“Well, here we are, it’s okay,” Inojin said, even if he did feel slightly irritated.

“It must be the baby brain,” Mirai’s fiancé chuckled nervously. “Come inside, come inside.” He stared some more. “Oh, you got your dog with you.”

Shikadai glanced down at Inori, politely sitting by his feet.

“She is my service dog,” he said, a little exaggerating in case the fiancé didn’t like it. He had brought Inori with him many times before and it had never been an issue before. Now that Shikadai reflected over it, it made sense they didn’t want their new-born to be around dogs. He could have left Inori home, but liked having her with him, in case he began feeling bad.

Was he selfish for taking Inori with him? Was he just so weak?

_You are a burden._

“Ah, yes, of course, welcome,” the fiancé said again and let them in.

Shikadai couldn’t shake the nasty feeling of being seen as the freak. That he and Inojin were seen as a freak couple, one with a physical disability and the other with a mental illness. What a show.

He and Inojin got inside the apartment and Shikadai asked Inori to lie down in the hall. Her big, shiny eyes looked up at him, a little sad that Shikadai asked her to wait.

“Wait here,” Shikadai said and Inori lay down, gaze never leaving her owner.

Mirai looked up from the sofa where she was sitting with a little bundle of blankets in her lap. She smiled tiredly to both of them.

“Hello,” she said. “Come here.” Shikadai padded over to her and sat down next to her and Inojin placed the wheelchair close to the sofa. Mirai titled the bundle so they could see a little pink face.

“Hi,” Shikadai said and touched the baby’s soft cheek. “Welcome to the world, little one.” He smiled.

“Do you want to hold him?” Mirai asked and Shikadai looked up at her, a little mortified at the great responsibility of holding a baby. “It’s okay. I’ll help you.”

She gently slid the baby over to Shikadai’s lap and he just stared at the little human in his arms.

The baby boy had his eyes closed, asleep.

“Who is it visiting us?” Mirai asked with a baby voice to her child. “This is uncle Shikadai. It’s your uncle.”

Shikadai couldn’t but smile down at the child Mirai regarded as his nephew. Mirai looked up, put a hand behind the baby’s head as to imitate when someone moves their head to look around. She looked at Inojin.

“And Inojin, your uncle’s boyfriend, is also here,” Mirai said, turning the sleeping baby’s head towards him. “Hi, Inojin. I’m glad you could also come.” She still hadn’t made the connection that there had been a struggle to even visit them.

“I put the kettle on,” Mirai’s fiancé said. He sat down by Mirai; his eyes steady on his baby in Shikadai’s arms.

Shikadai couldn’t help but feel like his gaze was extra steady because he didn’t trust Shikadai to be gentle with his child. Like he was afraid Shikadai would do something unpredictable.

_New-borns are ugly,_ the Hama voice said. It sounded like someone stood right behind Shikadai, whispering into his left ear. It was _real,_ but Shikadai knew Hama wasn’t real. Hama was an auditory hallucination. This voice’s presence was less frequent now that he was on a good medication and it just popped a few times during the day, offering Shikadai a comment or two, before just not being there anymore. Shikadai was good at ignoring Hama, the voice without a face.

He was very careful not to say anything back, or even in his own mind reply to Hama’s comment. He knew to not engage with the voice.

“Do you have a name yet?” Shikadai asked.

“Asuya,” Mirai said. “His name is Asuya.”

Shikadai cradled Asuya gently back and forth before looking up at Inojin, who was sitting a little bit isolated by the side of the couch.

“Do you want to hold him?” Shikadai asked and Inojin nodded, eyes beaming.

Shikadai did not see the gaze Mirai gave to her fiancé behind their backs. The fiancé had jerked when Shikadai stood up with his baby, as if afraid Shikadai would drop Asuya. Afraid because Shikadai was different and he knew it. Mirai did, however, stare at him, forcing him into silence.

_I will not watch you not trust my little brother._

She knew how those actions crushed Shikadai’s self-confidence, and self-confidence was what he needed to power through in life.

Her fiancé sat down again, looking at Shikadai handing the new-born over to Inojin.

Inojin took the baby, holding him close to his chest.

“Hi,” he whispered to Asuya, still fast asleep.

Right in that moment Inojin felt a pinch in his own chest, a warm feeling spreading all from his heart to his whole body until it remained surging inside his stomach. He looked down at the baby and got the sudden instinct to sniff the baby’s skin, to nuzzle close. But it wasn’t his child, so he didn’t do it.

But the feeling was still there, ignited from the moment he got the baby in his lap. The warm feeling felt for a second overbearing.

He could see Shikadai out of the corner of his eye, could see a fond smile on his lips. And Shikadai had a reason to smile like that when he thought Inojin was focused on the baby. He loved the image of Inojin holding a child.

Shikadai didn’t look down at Asuya. He looked straight at Inojin’s beautiful eyes, and how they radiated fondness at having a baby in his lap. The warm feeling spread in his stomach as well.

For a second they both wished the child Inojin was holding was their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my boys have baby fever...🥺


	3. A legacy betrayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dream of an 18th generation of Ino-Shika-Cho is still alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a somewhat sad chapter, sorry for that.
> 
> CW: body functions mentioned - pregnancy, menstruation, sex

Chocho and Mitsuki, along with Chocho’s dog Chowi, came often over to chill at Shikadai and Inojin’s place. Chocho and Mitsuki hadn’t moved in together just yet but were in the search of an apartment. Slowly Chocho had felt the need to get out of the Akimichi household, feeling like the walls were coming against them at some point. And Chocho wanted privacy when she and Mitsuki were on their own.

They had been together for quite a few years now and Inojin liked to boast about the fact that it was thank to him the couple went on their first date. He had asked Mitsuki if he wanted to date Chocho, right there in front of Chocho, earning a slap on his back later by her, but it had ended well. Mitsuki and Chocho ended up together.

They were currently sitting around the dinner table in Shikadai and Inojin’s apartment, all four of them, playing a boardgame. It was a nice way to spend time together, to figure out strategies and sabotaging for each other, drinking tea and soda and munching chips.

Beneath the table both dogs, Chowi and Inori, were sitting. Sometimes they wandered off to the sofa or Inori’s bed to sleep when they were sure no more chips crumbs were falling from between fingers. Sometimes Chowi would snap at Inori, claiming she was higher in ranking than the younger dog. Chowi was Inori’s mother, but all family bonds seemed to have been forgotten. Now Inori was like any other annoying young dog.

“Are you bullying my dog?” Shikadai would sharply ask Chowi when she chased Inori away from sitting beside Chocho’s chair, because Chowi was not sharing Chocho’s crumbs with anyone else.

“She’s just bossing her,” Chocho said, sounding rather proud. “Your dog should learn manners.”

“She is way better trained that Chowi,” Inojin chipped in.

“Oi,” Chocho sneered back. “Chowi is just showing who is the boss here.”

“This is _Inori’s_ home, you big bully”, Shikadai complained, but Chowi wasn’t listening. One minute after, however, both dogs sat nicely side by side beside Chocho’s chair in the hopes of getting some more crumbs.

“We visited Mirai the other day,” Shikadai announced after placing down his cards of the table, with an incredibly pleased smile on his lips. He was going to win; he could sense it. He had mapped every card in the pack – he knew the rare joker card was in the discard pile. Without that card, no one could win him.

“How is her baby?” Chocho asked. Her eyes were focused on the pile of cards Shikadai had just laid out, but he knew she was listening to him and genuinely interested.

“He looked like a new-born baby usually does,” Shikadai said, shrugging. “He was sleeping almost the whole meeting. Just by the end he woke up and cried a bit. I don’t know, he was a baby.”

He didn’t see how Inojin was looking at him out of the corner of his eye, carefully regarding him as he spoke of the baby.

The glowing feeling in his stomach re-entered when he thought of the baby. Of _a_ baby. He backed a bit from the table, to give his knees space to be lifted up so he could switch position.

His gaze turned upwards, towards the wall opposite of him. There were two scanned images up on the wall, two images he had seen as so poetic that he had convinced Shikadai to have them up on the wall.

The pictures were capturing the core of what made them different from other young adults.

The images were MRI scans of Inojin’s spine and Shikadai’s brain. Inojin had gone to a few scans over the time passed since his injury, and Shikadai had once gone to a brain scan, just as a standard procedure when he was hospitalised many years ago.

They were really poetic, in that kind of sense. The image of Inojin’s spine was shot from the side, where one could see the nice curve of his spine, could count all the different vertebras and see the dark grey channel surrounded by a thin white layer right in the middle of the spine. The dark grey channel was the spinal cord. And then, in the middle of the curve, one vertebra was fractured, and one could _see_ how it pressed into the spinal cord, cutting the signals off.

When Inojin had seen the image the first time when he lay in bed, wounded and in agony, with the daunting reality of being paralysed presented to him, he had burst in tears.

The image of Shikadai’s brain held less visible excitement, as far as scans of brains are exciting. It seemed like a normal brain. It was shot from the side of his head, and to the untrained, and even the trained eye, the brain seemed visibly normal. Mental illness doesn’t always show as visible differences on the membrane, and in Shikadai’s case, it didn’t.

Shikadai had at first wanted to stuff away the image to never look at it again. He found it creepy to have an image of his brain in possession, mostly because it wasn’t common for anyone to get their brain scanned and it reminded him that he had a problem with it that few other people had. He was different, he was ill.

They had at the end put the pictures up, a strong vivid imagery of what their lives in some respects centred around; their conditions. As it was creepy, it was also beautiful. A broken spine and a brain struggling to keep up with reality.

Inojin tore his gaze away from the two images up on the wall when Chocho’s strong voice echoed on the opposite side of him.

“Will Mirai’s baby learn shadow binding?” she asked and Shikadai stiffed up.

Mirai had once sworn to dedicate one of her children to the Nara clan, essentially making that baby Shikadai’s student. It was the plan for if Shikadai never gets a child, as his sexual preferences had during the three-clan meeting dictating over his future as the heir to the clan been seen as a big hindrance to becoming a father.

In itself, yes, him being in a dedicated relationship with Inojin _was_ a hindrance, but Shikadai hadn’t given it too much of a thought. He had had so much on his plate anyway, that children were something he had not given himself space to think about.

Having this plan b, a child that wouldn’t be Shikadai’s own, but his student, who would be so immersed in the Nara clan that the baby could be head of clan after Shikadai when that time comes was the current plan. Shikadai hadn’t talked about children at all.

And the Nara bloodline would move from Shikamaru and Shikadai’s to Asuma and Mirai’s.

“We didn’t talk about it,” Shikadai said, voice a little too strained for it to sound like he didn’t care. “Probably not. He is her first born, why would anyone want to dedicate their first born to another clan?”

“She promised – “

“Let it go,” Shikadai said.

“Why are you upset?” Chocho asked.

“I am not upset,” Shikadai grumbled under his breath. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”

Chocho understood the wink and immediately changed subject. There was no use in agitating Shikadai. That sometimes led to him having trouble with scrambled thoughts, where he had a hard time controlling how he was thinking, a common symptom of a psychotic disorder that sometimes showed up even through the medication. It could also lead into the first step of a delusion and everyone wanted to avoid that.

Having scrambled thoughts wasn’t dangerous per se, but Shikadai found it annoying and embarrassing to be unable to think clearly. When that happened, he usually went into their room and locked himself in, to be in peace with his brain, and would come out again when he felt better.

The rest of the boardgame night went on with less touchy subjects on the plate.

Ten to nine in the evening Chocho glanced at the clock and shot a soft smile to her friends.

“It’s time for us to leave,” he said.

“Yeah,” Shikadai said, scratching the back of his head. He got up from the chair, as did Mitsuki and Chocho. Inojin followed them as well. “Inori-girl, do you need to go out?”

Inori waved her tail and barked once as she placed herself in front of the door. Chowi came immediately there too, interested in seeing what Inori got so worked up for.

Chocho and Mitsuki let their shoes slip onto their feet.

“Thank you for hosting,” Chocho said and gave Shikadai a quick hug. Mitsuki smiled and waved politely to the hosts and they all, also Inori, went out through the door. Inojin remained inside, cleaning up crumbs from the table, placing the boardgame away, and putting out the containers with Shikadai’s medicine on the counter, ready for when he comes back.

When Shikadai came inside with Inori again, he walked up to Inojin and kissed him.

“Let’s get ready for bed,” he said.

One might think it sounds weird that a couple at this young age prepared to go to bed at the early time of nine in the evening, but in Shikadai’s and Inojin’s case, it was their normal.

Routine was so important for Shikadai, and what was even more important was sleep. A good night sleep was crucial for someone struggling with a mental health problem, and Shikadai knew that if he didn’t sleep enough, the following day the symptoms could be stronger. That was why they always had a rule, nine o’clock they prepare for bed and by ten they shut the light. That was a way to upkeep a sleep routine for Shikadai and it worked.

Shikadai took his evening medication, while Inojin prepared himself for going to sleep, emptied his bladder since he had to do it manually after he lost his ability to control it at the same time he became paralysed and within ten minutes they were brushing their teeth side by side in the bathroom.

“Snuggle?” Inojin asked when they moved over to their bedroom.

“Yeah,” Shikadai said as he swiftly changed to his pyjamas. Inojin transferred over to the bed and got changed as well, slower than Shikadai, but by the time he was done Shikadai had already puffed his pillows.

Inojin thought it was so sweet that Shikadai puffed his pillows while he changed. He slept with three or sometimes even four pillows, one under his head, one propped against his back when he slept on his side and one tugged between or under his legs. When he got into position Shikadai pressed himself close and brought one hand over his chest, pressing his nose into the crook of Inojin’s neck.

They were both satisfied with the routine to always go to bed the same time every day. It kept things going and it was easier to see when Shikadai began going downhill.

Without an external trigger, the downhill always began with less sleep.

During the three-four years Shikadai had struggled with the diagnosis he had been hospitalised three times, the first time fourteen days after his first episode, the second time over forty days when Inojin had been injured, and the third time four months ago, just a week after they had moved in together. It had been a frightening experience for them both.

Shikadai had during that week the psychosis broke out had trouble sleeping. They blamed in on the stressful days of moving into a new apartment. But then it got worse. He stopped talking at odd times and could space out. Inojin had to coax him to take his medicine and he grew more and more worried. It was so easy to blame the external stress and thinking _it’ll be better when the new routine steps in_ and Inojin hesitated too much to force Shikadai to an emergency evaluation with a psychiatrist.

Inojin should have known that when Shikadai stops talking, he is sliding downhill, and fast.

One day when Inojin had returned from the gym Shikadai was gone. He knew immediately something bad had happened and with the help of his sensory skills found Shikadai on the way to his own parents. Inojin had immediately called the Nara household, because a mind in psychosis was close to impenetrable for his Mind Jutsu, and Shikamaru had found Shikadai hiding behind their house.

It turned out that Shikadai had had a vivid visual hallucination for the first time, a hallucination that had scared him so much he had fled his own flat.

The hallucination had been of Inojin.

Shikadai had seen the outer door to their apartment open and on the other side of it, Inojin lying on the floor, body all crooked akin to something straight out of a nightmare, and a bleeding wound at the back of his head. The hallucination had a sound too, a breathing sounding more like a wheeze. The hallucination of Inojin had crawled slowly towards Shikadai in a disturbing manner, dragging itself along the floor while making the nasty breathing sound.

“ _You… did… this,”_ the hallucination had said and looked up at Shikadai with dark, hollow eyes, and in Shikadai’s world that had been real. It had been the real Inojin dragging himself along the floor, unable to use his legs and with a body twisted in a non-human way. It had been _real._

Shikadai had been so afraid he had run around the hallucination and to his parents’ home, hiding in the bushes behind it. He had been unable to talk, thoughts too scrambled for him to communicate properly, so he had mostly whined and even growled when being approached.

He wasn’t a dangerous boy even then. He had only been a frightened boy whose world was not real.

He stayed at the ward for a week, where he quickly bounced back to his normal self, and since then it became even more evident that he needed the sleep. If he cheated with sleep, the risk of him spiral down was a pressing matter of time.

So, they had told everyone that no matter what party there were going to, for the time being, Shikadai prepared to sleep at nine. It had felt embarrassing at the beginning, but Shikadai had later accepted that this was his routine for a while. And he would do anything to avoid seeing the monstrosity of hallucination one more time.

That was the one and only time he had had a visual hallucination.

And because Shikadai had to get a peaceful sleep, Inojin waited to talk with him until the following morning. They had just finished breakfast when Inojin cleared his throat softly.

“Shikadai…” he said. “Can I ask you something?”

Shikadai looked up from Inori, who had her head in his lap.

“Yeah,” he said.

“What have you thought about children?”

Shikadai was completely still for a few seconds, his gaze dropping down.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean…” Inojin wheeled closer to Shikadai to be close to him. “… Would you like to be a dad sometimes in the future?”

Shikadai snapped his eyes upward to meet Inojin’s gaze.

“Do you have baby fever?” he asked, sounding almost doubting. Inojin shrugged his shoulders almost desperately.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe I got baby fever from holding Mirai’s baby.” When Shikadai didn’t say anything, only stared out of the window, Inojin brought his hand closer to place it on top of Shikadai’s hand. He didn’t move away, which felt like a good sign.

Finally, Shikadai sighed.

“We can’t get a child,” he said.

“Says who?” Inojin asked immediately.

“Biology,” Shikadai said and snatched his hand to himself. Inojin stared at it before bravely taking up eye contact with his boyfriend.

“I know you can see past that,” Inojin said. “Of course _we_ can’t bear any children, but there are other ways.”

“As if anyone would give away their child to us,” Shikadai muttered. Inojin regarded him closely, looking for any guidance in Shikadai’s desert eyes.

“Is this about us both being men?” Inojin asked, trying to locate the source to Shikadai’s reluctance.

“Okay, let’s pretend we have a child,” Shikadai said, and his voice was everything else that the calm tone he usually spoke in. If anything, he sounded rather desperate. He didn’t stand up, and that was Inojin grateful for. He hated having to look up at Shikadai when they were having some argument, which Shikadai knew. He was lucky that Shikadai respected that and always sat down so they were at the same eyelevel. “Yes, that child would have two dads.”

“Is that a problem?” Inojin asked, gently. “Would that make us lesser parents?”

“No, I don’t know,” Shikadai said. Inojin furrowed his brows, analysing Shikadai’s twitchy movements. He had a feeling Shikadai would soon snap, as this was something sensitive to him, yet Inojin had it in him to keep pushing. Ever since Shikadai had grown older with the illness as a companion, he wanted to avoid talking about certain matters, because he was scared of his own reaction.

Honesty is the most important piece in healing and overcoming insecurities. Inojin sighed, finally identifying the problem.

“I want you to be honest now,” Inojin said, keeping his voice as even and calm as possible. “This hasn’t anything to do with us as a couple. You are afraid of the idea of being a father, isn’t that the issue here?”

Shikadai didn’t want to look at Inojin.

“Inori, come,” he just said and Inori jumped up by his side and began licking him on his cheek.

Inojin waited patiently as Shikadai scratched his dog behind her ear and looked into her eyes as if looking for guidance from her. Inori lay down by Shikadai’s side, warm and secure, while letting him press his hands against her fur.

“I would be the worst dad ever,” Shikadai finally whispered.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Inojin said.

“What if I would hurt them?” Shikadai said, looking up at Inojin. “I am doomed to relapse. I don’t see a future where I won’t become hospitalised again. It will always come back. And what if, one day, I would do something I would regret.”

Inojin knew this was incoming. He grabbed Shikadai’s hand.

“You wouldn’t,” he said.

“You can’t make such promises,” Shikadai said. “And I can’t either.”

“Every time you have spiralled down you have hidden yourself,” Inojin said. “Up in Kumo, you hid from other people, the second time you avoided people and this last time you ran away. You don’t do anything dangerous. You just look for a safe place.”

“And that is the thing,” Shikadai said. He was looking down at Inori again, who hadn’t moved a centimetre. “What if my future child would try to communicate with me, their dad, who is supposed to be the safest of them all, and I can’t respond back? What if I just abandoned my child? What if I leave them, go wander alone somewhere? _Then_ they would be in danger.” He took a sharp breath. “If I had a child, they would hate me.”

“That is not true,” Inojin said. “They wouldn’t hate you. Ever.”

“How can you be so sure?” Shikadai asked. “Imagine if they had to make sure I stay okay. That must sure be scary. What child would want to have that responsibility?”

“You wouldn’t put that on burden on a child,” Inojin said. “If someone would have to take care of you, that is either me, your parents or professionals. You don’t have to worry.”

Shikadai scoffed.

“This is a drag,” he said, eyes focused down. “When I held Mirai’s baby I thought it would be nice to maybe have a child someday and…” He placed a hand over his heart. “It hurt here so much, because I knew I can never have a child on my own.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Inojin said and leaned forward, catching Shikadai’s lips barely with his own. He shuffled a little further in his chair to come closer and gave Shikadai a proper kiss. “I know having children is somewhere far in the future but think of it like this. Let’s say we begin looking into options in five years or so. Imagine how further you have walked your journey then. We’ll be able to recognise when you begin to feel bad and can get you help in time. And imagine, you managed two years without a psychosis. That is an admirable long time, and you can’t get mad at yourself for relapsing every second year.”

“There is no guarantee it will stay two years again,” Shikadai whispered.

“No,” Inojin said. “But it was beautiful to see that you managed so well. And now you have more means to reality check visual hallucinations if they were to come.”

“Don’t – “ Shikadai hissed. He hated being reminded of the twisted, bloody Inojin he had seen in their home. It still haunted him in his mind, even if the hallucination hadn’t made an appearance since. The most recent time in the hospital he had spent time learning to reality check visual hallucinations and what to do if he would see them again. “Sorry. I sometimes just feel so defeated by myself. Being betrayed by my own mind.”

Inojin decided to transfer over to the sofa to be on Shikadai’s side, so he would be sandwiched between Inojin and Inori. Shikadai let his head tip down, leaning against Inojin.

“I have had similar feelings too,” Inojin said against the dark crown of Shikadai’s head, when Shikadai had found a comfortable position. “I am, too, betrayed by my own body. It doesn’t move like I want it to. And I have also thought that I can’t ever have a child? But then I met a woman through one of those spinal cord injury peer meetings and she inspired me. She had three children, all of which she had carried, delivered and raised while being paralysed and a wheelchair user. She said it is fully possible to be a good parent from the chair.”

He kissed Shikadai on the cheek.

“If we both want a child someday in the future,” he continued. “We will make it. When there is a will, there is a way. Even with all that we have and are. Two men, one a wheelchair user and the other living with a mental health issue. But we can make it, and I’m sure we can have a family one day if we want.”

“Just like we have made it with Inori,” Shikadai said silently, through a tiny smile. He was looking down at his dog – their dog, who looked back up at him. Her tail was slightly waving back and forth. “She is like our little baby.”

Inori crawled up in Shikadai’s lap, licked him and then also Inojin.

They had already a family on their own, and even if possible children was far in the future, a little seed of yearning had been planted.

Chocho locked the door to the bathroom that night but made no movement towards the toilet yet. Mitsuki had gone home after sharing a wet and then an even wetter kiss with her. Oh, how Chocho wished they could live together, him and her, just like Shikadai and Inojin, but Inojin had the ironic privilege of getting an apartment that had a short queue from the house complex only offering flats to individuals living with a physical disability.

She and Mitsuki had been apartment hunting too but hadn’t yet found a flat that suited them and Chowi.

Chocho took a deep, sad breath and opened the cabinet by the toilet. In there, in the box she stored her menstrual pads and tampons, there were something else, effectively hidden behind the pads.

She fished out a pregnancy test from the back of the box and removed it from its container, while sitting down on the toilet. There were a few more unused pregnancy tests left, hidden away from any curious eyes. No one would find them unless they routed about among her tampons, and she could count for her parents to not find his way into this cabinet.

She peed on the stick while guilt tore through her.

When she and Mitsuki moved over to more sexual activities after being a couple for a while Chocho had claimed they didn’t need any contraception methods. She had explained her point of view to Mitsuki, and he had mulled over it for a while and the nodded, consented to the lack of hindrance. They had no means to avoid pregnancy when having sex.

Chocho knew that they should use it and what they did was wrong, yet she felt a knot in her stomach when staring at the minus on the test.

She was not pregnant.

She pressed the used tests as deep down into the trashcan as it possibly would go.

She would never become pregnant.

When she was fourteen a spear had been stabbed right in her lower stomach, impaling one of her ovaries. That spear had also ripped the side of her uterus, and even if the uterus became healed and she was lucky to avoid complications, the gynaecologist had just said _I’m sorry_ after examining Chocho. She still had irregular periods, and horrible period pain the month her functioning ovary released an egg, but the doctor had still said the chances of a fertilised egg staying in her womb and growing into a baby was small.

Chocho felt like a failed woman. When she was younger and got the news that she might never become pregnant she had convinced herself that it wasn’t a big deal. Shikadai and Inojin weren’t going to be biological parents either, so it wasn’t like she had failed alone.

But deep inside she knew she had dreams of a family. She had been nurtured the idea through growing up with the legacy of seventeen generations of Ino-Shika-Cho and it wasn’t a lie she would love to have a little baby girl on her own. The idea felt so tempting, to have a little mini-Chocho to take care for and love unconditionally.

She was now eighteen and this was the age many began looking for a possible spouse and future children was a topic on many young adults’ lips. This was normal in their society.

And Chocho would never get that.

She had talked with Mitsuki about children of their own, which was the reason he had agreed to have unprotected intercourse. He wanted a family as well and Chocho had said she might never get a baby, so if it was okay, they could try from the very first start. Mitsuki was so fascinated by the idea of taking care of a little one, of co-parenting with a spouse, since he had grown up in the most interesting of family constellations and was curious to follow a little life growing up with two parents.

They could lay in bed, nestled in a spoon and looking up at the ceiling, dreaming, coming up with baby names and imagining a future in the most perfect little family, just like in Chocho’s dreams.

Chocho didn’t want to crush Mitsuki’s dream. Didn’t want to crush her own dream.

Her body had betrayed her. Biology had betrayed her.

Chocho took a deep breath, made sure the used test was well-hidden in the trash, before leaving the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The baby fever is real... Can't be easy to have the Ino-Shika-Cho legacy on their shoulders


	4. Moving on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter that deals with the past the boys have gone through, which means that this is also the chapter where this story's plot actually begins! Exciting stuff!
> 
> CW: implied sex because my boys are adults now and they are in love

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ino asked and made no efforts of covering the sadness in her voice.

She and Sai were standing in the hall in Inojin and Shikadai’s apartment. Inojin was sitting next to them, wiggling a shoe on his foot.

“Yes, I want to,” he responded. His voice was almost trembling. “Aren’t Shikamaru and Temari coming too?” He tried to postpone everything.

“They’re outside,” Ino said. She smiled and nudged Inojin’s shoulder. “Which you would know if you sensed around yourself a little bit.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Inojin said and tossed Inori’s leash to Shikadai. She was prancing around, waiting for the big event of going out for a walk.

Except this wasn’t any normal walk. This wasn’t a walk around the neighbourhood to get the necessities out of the way, or a little longer trail along the outskirts of Konoha to stretch the legs a little bit more. This wasn’t either a leisure for her. She was going to work.

Inori was trained to be a service dog, and for a long period of time she and Shikadai had spent time with a lady who worked with training therapy dogs. For hours the lady had trained Inori and Shikadai had been an observer of the training sessions and gotten to do some of it himself. After a seven-month period of training, practise and staged panic attacks, quite exactly a year ago, Inori had graduated as an official therapy dog for Shikadai.

For this particular walk, Inori wasn’t going to be a family dog minding her own business. For this walk, she was in service. Shikadai made a certain clicking sound with his tongue to alert her, so she’d know that they were talking business now.

Never letting Shikadai go from her gaze, she sat by his side – prepared to help him if he needed it.

Today, the fourth of April, was a special day. Not a happy day. An anniversary.

Today, the fourth of April, three years had passed since Inojin, Shikadai and the whole of Ino-Shika-Cho had walked downstairs into a catacomb a good distance away from Konoha on a path of revenge.

Inojin had been cursed with a seal on his tongue and walking into the lair of the people who had done this to him, no one less than his own aunt – Sai’s twin sister – seemed to be the only way for him to get revenge.

It had ended badly.

The plan of revenge had backfired hard into their hands, and it had ended with Inojin falling helplessly into a ravine, landing on his back, and because of that half his body was robbed from him in a paralysis.

Today marked the beginning of the third year since his life changed forever.

Inojin had decided a long time ago that this day would be the day he went back to the ravine, to look at the darkness down the hole, and reflect upon it, to remember and to get peace with it.

For all these years he hadn’t wanted to visit the ravine. The memory had been too painful, and now, today, he was ready to face his past.

Shikadai had also wanted to come with him. It was important for him as well to face the demons of his mind, the place where he had finally lost the battle against his own mind three years ago, which was the reason Shikamaru and Temari wanted to join them as well on this emotional trip.

Sai rubbed Inojin’s shoulder, swallowing.

“Let’s go then.”

Since the road was so long to the place where the ravine was, they had decided to take Ink Birds to said place.

“Inori hates flying,” Shikadai complained when he lifted her up. Inori wasn’t the smallest dog out there, and he grunted when her fluffy fur got into his mouth and nose. “Stay still.”

“Well, I asked if you wanted to stay at home,” Inojin retorted as he struggled to stand. Sai held a firm grip around Inojin’s waist to help him, to keep him stable as Inojin commanded the tattoos to move his leg for him. He took a step to the side, let the leg slide over the bird. Ino stood on the other side of the bird, holding Inojin’s hand.

His balance wasn’t enough anymore to do difficult movement such as lifting a leg over a bird.

Inojin sank down over the bird, twisting his head to look at Shikadai’s progress to get Inori on the other bird. He seemed to be up for a challenge to keep her to sit still.

“Inojin,” Sai said. He had a summoning scroll in his hand and moved it meaningfully over to the wheelchair by the bird’s side. “I know you usually want to do it yourself – “

“It’s okay, you can do it,” Inojin said. Usually, he wanted himself to summon the wheelchair into a summoning scroll because he was stressed about anything happening to it. Summoning jutsus could fail and break the item, and Inojin was constantly fearing that his means of moving around would break inside the summoning. It was just such an unnerving feeling of knowing that your most secure way of having independence could break.

He looked at Sai performing the summoning and later took the scroll to carry it with him. Sai sat behind Inojin, just as a safety measure to hold around Inojin’s waist in the curves. Inojin didn’t have the energy to tell him that he uses the tattoos to keep himself secure on the bird. He was tired and sad as it was; this anniversary of having his life changed.

Inojin looked behind him to see the bird Shikadai and Inori were sitting on taking flight. He swallowed and hoped Shikadai would take the event well. He hadn’t been at the ravine either since Inojin had dangled off the edge of it, prepared to die if that was the only way to save Shikadai.

Inojin had sometimes nightmares off that moment.

The birds took off and Inojin felt his palms slowly turn sweatier and his throat dryer. A big, black lump collected in his throat and the muscles in his arms were tense and stiff like sticks.

He was nervous.

He was so nervous to see the place where it all happened.

He didn’t dare to look behind him to see how Shikadai was reacting, but considering he had Inori with him, he would stay safe even if he was sitting on a flying bird. Temari was sitting behind him, too.

Inojin looked down at the changing scenery below them, and after some time the birds lowered down between the trees.

At first, he had to strain his mind to be able to recognise the place, a bit shocked when he realised that he didn’t remember much of the view around the ravine. Any vivid memories of that had been skewed or removed by his brain.

But there it was, a dark oblong hole surrounded by grass, turning into a ravine where lives had been changed.

Inojin stared at the hole, feeling anxiety spread in his stomach. He remembered the few seconds before he fell, the reason why he hadn’t landed on his feet like Shikadai. The moment the ground broke, he had stumbled forward and managed to grab the edge with his hands. The roots of the grass he twisted his fingers around hadn’t been strong enough and he had fallen, accidentally pushing himself away from the wall of the ravine with his feet and tipping his balance backwards – making him land hard on his back instead.

It had been excruciatingly painful.

The bird landed and Sai slipped skilfully off it, assessing the ground. Inojin saw it himself, the ground was uneven, and it would be difficult moving around with the chair. The casters – the front wheels – would get stuck everywhere.

So awkward walking and being carried was the solution.

“You want me or Shikadai?” Sai asked.

Since Inojin had grown into his adult size Ino preferred not to carry him anymore, and the only people Inojin wanted to do the job were either Sai or Shikadai.

“You,” Inojin said. He didn’t want Shikadai to have to put focus on him when it was equally mentally tough for him to be here.

Sai took Inojin, almost hugged him from behind and helped him stand. Ino came up to them, ready to help Inojin in any way, but he shook his head, never letting his eyes leave the ravine.

“Just me and dad,” Inojin said and Ino backed politely off. She had guessed Inojin would want to get to the edge of the ravine with as few people as possible.

This was his and his dad’s sorrow.

“One, two, three,” Sai said as he lifted Inojin up on his back. They walked up to the ravine, the hole coming threateningly close. Inojin’s heart sped up and when they were close, not so close they could dangle their legs off the edge, but enough so they could view the darkness down below, Sai placed him gently down on the ground.

Inojin looked at the edge, closed his eyes, feeling them fill with tears.

So many times, had he dreamt of running, only to wake up, bright awake like lightning had shot through him, wondering if what he had dreamt was real. It had felt so real, the feeling of moving his legs, of running. The wonderful tiredness in his thighs and calves after a good, long run, the breathlessness.

Times like that he put his hand along his side and let it run down. At his hipbone, his sensation stopped, and he was yet reminded that running had been a dream. He would even sometimes, if he still were hazy and half-dreaming, try to stand up, because the reflex was still on autopilot in his body. He would then, for half a second, wonder why nothing happened until reality caught up with him again and he would sink down in bed and muffle his mouth to not wake Shikadai up when crying.

The times he cried were fewer now the more time that had passed, when he could still get episodes of frustration and rage, when he would even hit his own legs to see if he could feel pain in them, and nowadays he mostly sighed deeply when moments like that happened. The road of acceptance had been long, with the backlash when he realised, he wasn’t good enough to walk, even if he could do the movement with his tattoos, and he was not yet close to true acceptance of the turn his life had taken.

Inojin bit his lip.

This was where it all had happened. Inojin looked at the ground around the ravine, feeling anger bubble up in his body. There had been no signs that the ground was weak at the place it had burst. It had only been the most extreme of unluck, that Shikadai and he had stepped _right here._ No one could have known there was a manmade trap below their feet.

No one could have known.

It was no one’s fault.

It was a freak accident with a high price.

Inojin let his hand touch the edge, thinking back to when he dangled off it, scared for his life, yet prepared to die.

“Inojin,” Sai said, with a voice so low it was barely above a whisper. “How are you feeling?”

They both knew they were being watched, at least by Ino, but they didn’t care. Inojin didn’t even know what Shikadai was doing, and he felt almost deaf to any sounds beside his own heartbeat in his ears.

“I want a hug,” Inojin said and Sai brought his arm around Inojin’s shoulder, turning his head to press a kiss into blond, wispy hair.

“I’m so sorry,” Sai whispered into Inojin’s hair. He still blamed himself for Inojin’s injury, wishing and dreaming to be able to turn back time, but he had fast recognised Inojin’s need to not be pitied all the time. He learned fast to see past the wheelchair and see his son, who he had always loved, just like he was. This moment, however, he allowed himself some pity.

“I’m sorry too,” Inojin just said, finding himself at a loss of words.

What had happened had happened and it was what it was. Inojin had a spinal cord injury and would have for the rest of his life.

“Do you think it was a good idea to come here?” Sai asked of his son.

Inojin looked down once more, thinking back at the moment of the impact. He remembered that he knew immediately he had become paralysed. It wasn’t a moment of shock or denial, he knew. When he had landed, an electric shock had gone down his spine – the final thing he felt – and then he felt how his lost his lower limbs beginning from the toes up to his pelvis. Contrary to what any walking person would think, it hadn’t been a moment of panic, but rather a surprisingly peaceful moment in his mind, when he had thought very few things beyond _Shit. I just became paralysed._

It wasn’t until afterward he had begun panicking.

“Yes,” Inojin finally said. When he looked down, he realised that he had fallen so far. He shouldn’t blame his body for not being invincible, when he saw what a fall he had survived. He could have died from this, but he hadn’t. If he had to choose between dying or becoming paralysed, then yes – living on wheels was worth living at all. He would never choose to die instead of the life he had now.

He moved around differently, and his life had more obstacles than the ablebodied person, but he was _alive_ and in love and _that_ was what mattered.

To find that realisation alone was worth coming here and Inojin felt a little ray of hope light inside his chest. He may be disabled, but his life wasn’t over, and he had survived a fall that could have killed him. Maybe he was stronger than he thought after all.

He pressed himself closer to his father, and Sai responded the hug. He might not feel the ground he was sitting on, but he felt the warmth of Sai through his arm and back and in that moment it was more than enough.

Shikamaru and Temari stood a little bit further away, making sure they weren’t disturbing Inojin in his moment to find peace with the past.

Shikadai sat on the ground in front of them, hands deep into Inori’s fur. His breaths were short, and his stomach had tightened into a hard knot. It felt like he would throw up of anxiety, but the attack was much milder than it would have been a year or so ago.

He could have been driven into hyperventilation and an overwhelming attack of tears, but now his anxiety and panic had a different reaction instead. It was steadily moving through him, making him feel nauseous and scared, but it wasn’t overwhelming. He leaned into Inori, silently thanking her for all the help she had ever given him in the past.

If not for all therapy he had gone to for all these years, he wouldn’t have become any better, and contrary to today’s reaction, he would probably have only gotten worse. This moment was a manifestation that he _had_ become better than when he was a teen. He was overall more mentally stable than when he was fifteen-sixteen.

Inori sniffed him in his ear to give him stimuli, to focus on something else than panic and she licked him occasionally. But for the most time she just sat there, being by his side, and letting him hold her, while she looked with her chocolate brown eyes up in his.

Shikadai remembered the fight. He had carried Inojin and held his hand with all his might, fighting gods and destiny to keep Inojin from falling down the second time in the ravine when Kira, Inojin’s cousin, had stepped on his back, pressed her foot down between his shoulder blades.

He didn’t remember anything from the first time they had fallen down the ravine, his memories wiped away by his brain.

In the end, he didn’t have to remember.

He had only to look forward to his future.

Inori licked a tear going down his cheek. He hadn’t even realised he had begun to cry.

“Are you spacing out again?” Shikamaru asked gently of him, as he moved closer.

Shikadai shrugged, not leaving Inojin from his gaze.

“Do you think I can go up to him?” he asked with a faint voice, and Shikamaru didn’t almost hear him.

“I’m sure you can,” Shikamaru said and Shikadai got up. Inori followed him carefully as she walked by his side.

Shikadai almost stumbled closer to Inojin, throat so tight it felt like he was about to choke, and legs shaky and weak. Inojin looked up at him and forced a smile.

“Hey,” he said. “Come here.”

Sai stood up, letting Shikadai slump down on the other side of Inojin, who let his head lean on Shikadai’s shoulder. Their parents backed off a bit, respecting their privacy. This was Shikadai and Inojin’s moment after all.

“We survived,” Inojin whispered and Shikadai pressed a kiss on Inojin’s forehead.

“Yeah, we did,” he replied against Inojin’s hair. He closed his eyes, squeezing out a few tears in the process, and pressed his lips as hard as he could into sunshine hair. “Remember what we talked about down there? About the dancing?”

“I still remember your quote,” Inojin said. “The dance above the stars-thing. It was kind of inspirational.”

“Why do I always say weird stuff when I’m like that?” Shikadai chuckled. “But the point was, remember when the only thing you could think of was that you couldn’t dance?” He didn’t remember it himself all too clearly, and this was based of what Inojin had told him.

“Yeah,” Inojin said. “It was something tangible to think of.”

“And what did we know, we can dance,” Shikadai said, and squeezed Inojin. “Whatever struggle coming in our way, we beat it. We make the best out of the situation.”

Inojin made a satisfied sound, probably because he didn’t want to talk when he tried to hinder himself from crying again. Sitting on the edge of the ravine was as an emotional experience as he had imagined.

“I love you,” Shikadai said against Inojin’s head. “I love you so much it hurts me sometimes.”

“I love you, too,” Inojin replied, snivelling against Shikadai. His Shikadai.

The four parents sat down, talking lowly to not disturb their sons, while Inojin and Shikadai got all the time they needed by the edge of the ravine, to accept the past and to heal.

Together.

Later, when Inojin and Shikadai got home again, they made dinner together – mushrooms and omelette and ate in the sofa while watching lazily tv. Inori was lying, as usual, in her bed by the sofa, sleeping after her duty to be Shikadai’s therapy dog for the evening. The mood was sombre and quiet, yet something in it felt peaceful.

Inojin placed his plate down after finishing his food and leaned down until he flopped on his back. He didn’t want to wallow in the past anymore, wanting to focus on the now, the now in which he had Shikadai by his side. The now in which he was in love.

“How are you?” he asked and commanded the tattoos to lift one of his legs up. He wanted to tease Shikadai a little bit after the emotional noon and thought the idea of kicking him gently was a fun way to do it. The thing, however, was that he had no idea how forceful he moved his leg with the tattoo, and his heel planted itself in Shikadai’s diaphragm.

“Oof,” Shikadai groaned. “I just ate! Just because you can’t feel anything doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“Oops, sorry,” Inojin said, but he wasn’t sorry at all. Shikadai recognised the tease and visibly, in an over-acting, pinched Inojin’s foot, so Inojin could imagine the sensation and imagine being tickled. They sometimes did teases like that, using the disability in a fun way to get laughs.

“You little – “Shikadai laughed and reached his hand to poke Inojin’s ribs. Inojin grabbed his wrist and yanked him further, closer to him, and in the end Shikadai moved over to lie on top of Inojin. “You glorious little bastard.”

He reached down and kissed Inojin, before realising he was putting pressure on Inojin’s lower stomach. He immediately moved his knee and hoped he hadn’t caused a leak. A quick check confirmed he hadn’t, and he gave once again his undivided attention to Inojin.

“Are you feeling better?” Inojin asked. “In your head?”

“Yeah,” Shikadai said, looking down at Inojin. “It feels good to be home again with you.”

Carefully, he brought his hands below Inojin’s shirt. He looked up again, desperate to feel something else after the pain a few hours ago. The tv had distracted his mind and now he felt ready to feel something else. A grin spread on his lips.

“Want to move this to the bed?”

The sofa was not big enough for this.

Inojin grinned back.

“Oh yes,” he said and brought his arms around Shikadai’s neck, and he hauled Inojin up in sitting position.

Shikadai smiled against Inojin’s lips, kissing him boldly.

“We could try the new lube,” he said when he pulled back, feeling the desire grow deep inside his stomach. He wanted to feel bodily pleasure. “It has warming effects, I’m kind of curious to see if it feels better with it.”

“Your spit is enough for me,” Inojin said.

“Hah ha,” Shikadai replied. “I meant for me.” He gesticulated over his groin.

“I know, sweetie,” Inojin laughed, counted to three in his own head before transferring over to the wheelchair. He didn’t want to walk to the bedroom, since for this occasion, neuropathic pain was the final thing he wanted to feel.

He had other sensations to feel right now.

And no, he might not have feeling down where most people focus their sexual activities, but there were other ways of having sex and he and Shikadai had found out a way they liked to do it. Inojin’s body had developed new erogenous zones since he lost sensation below his pelvis, and now the insides of his arms were where Shikadai spent a lot of time kissing and licking during their sexual activities. And his nipples of course. Ah, the nipples were the highlight of it all. Inojin felt warm inside when wheeling over to the bedroom.

Shikadai sauntered after him and just before he walked into their bedroom, he turned around to look at Inori, who had curiously followed him.

“You stay out here, Nori-girl,” he said. “No coming here.”

Inori looked at him before turning around and stayed in her bed. She turned her head away from the closed doorway. She knew better than to walk into the bedroom when her boys had said to her not to. When this behaviour of her owners had begun, she had also wanted to come to bed with them, just like when they went to sleep, and had been very butthurt when Shikadai had pushed her down again.

So, she tried snoring away while her boys made weird noises together.

Temari had expected the call.

“Nara of the Sand house, Temari speaking,” she said in the phone, even if she already knew who was calling.

“Hello,” Gaara said on the other side of the line. “The council has decided. I can’t get them to change their mind. It is official now.”

Temari brought her hand over her forehead, sighing deeply. She leaned against the wall, twisted the wire of the telephone around her finger.

“Okay then,” she muttered. “Same old shit again. Why don’t they ever learn?”

“I have tried,” Gaara said. “Kankuro has also tried. We are on your side in this. You have to trust us.”

Temari sighed again.

“Of course I trust you,” she said. “Does Shikadai have to do something?”

“He must sign the contract,” Gaara said. “In person. Here.”

“When?” Temari asked, voice hard, as she gazed up on the calendar they had on the wall, trying to calculate if she could just leave for Suna for a few days.

“As soon as possible,” Gaara replied. “The council is getting rather impatient. I have no idea why they are so nervous about this. Everything that is more meaningful is getting pushed to the side to get this through. Almost every day they are asking when the Prince is coming. I am tired of their… clownery.”

“So am I,” Temari said. “We can travel to yours on Sunday.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Gaara said. “Does Shikadai know about this?”

“I haven’t told him,” Temari admitted, the words hurting slightly on her tongue. Once again was someone holding a secret from Shikadai. “He is doing so good now. Even if he had a relapse a while ago.”

“Hm,” Gaara said. “Very well. I am glad to hear he is doing good. The dog was a good addition.”

“She is,” Temari said, smiling. She took another deep breath. “See you on Sunday, Gaara.”

“It’s going to be good to see you,” Gaara said, and Temari could hear him smile.

“It will,” Temari said. “Tell Kankuro I said hi. Bye.” She shut the call, dragged her hands through her hair and looked at a photograph of Shikadai they had on the counter by the phone. They liked having pictures of Shikadai here and there in their house, and especially when he had been hospitalised looking at pictures where he smiled helped them getting through the worry for him.

“Oh, my boy,” Temari said as her fingertips touched the photo. “The world is not an easy place for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo.... do I smell that they're going to Suna? 
> 
> Dear readers, indulge me, tell me what you think will happen next! ❤


	5. The threat within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for the drop? Welcome on board on this 6k long chapter!

Temari wanted the travel to Suna be as pleasant as possible for Shikadai. She had made sure that Shinki was available also outside the incoming party they were going to have in Suna, keeping him available for some cousin bonding when Shikadai would come. They were good friends and had grown close ever since Shikadai became a dual citizen and began doing longer missions together with Shinki when he had spent time in Suna.

The times he had been in Suna exclusively for missions had been over the years far more sporadic than they all had hoped when the system had been put into place.

Shikadai had spent time on-off on sick leave during the years that had passed since he became a dual citizen, sometimes Shikamaru just hadn’t wanted to let him go because Shikadai had earlier given some offside comment that had worried his parents and sometimes he had crippling anxiety the day he was supposed to leave and refused to get on the train. He had managed to do a handful of exclusive Sunese missions over the years, but far fewer than originally thought.

“We are going to celebrate Shinki’s coming home-day,” Temari said when Shikadai was visiting them the following time. “They want us to be present. It is the ten-year anniversary after all.”

No one knew Shinki’s real date of birth, so to have something to celebrate each year, the family celebrated his ‘coming home-day’ instead, which was in the by the end of April. Shinki was assumed nine years old when Gaara found him, and now ten years had passed since Gaara hugged the scared, orphaned child in the middle of a storm of iron.

“Ugh, is it going to be ceremonial?” Shikadai grunted.

“What is wrong with a ceremonial celebration?” Temari asked.

“Like you don’t know,” Shikadai said. “The council is going to be present and I have to shake their hands and answer all their questions. And it’s a little bit embarrassing to force a small talk, since you know they don’t really like me.”

It was unfortunately true. It had started with Shikadai’s citizenship to Konoha and the fact that Temari for almost a decade was the only out of Rasa’s children who had a child. The council grew nervous because the Kazekage seat worked similar to the monarchies of countries far away in other continents. The Kazekage family had ruled Suna since the founding of the village, and for as long as Shikadai was the only grandchild of Rasa’s blood, the fact that he lived in another village – in _Konoha_ of all places – was an issue.

When Shinki joined the family, the council had calmed down a fraction, simply stating that the choice for the Kazekage to follow Gaara was an easy one, only to be agitated yet again when Shikadai by law became a legitimate heir again through his official citizenship to Suna.

And it was no secret the council didn’t have any surplus empathy for individuals living with mental illnesses.

“You don’t have to talk to them,” Temari said, not looking at Shikadai. He seemed less tense than he used when they were leaving for Suna, lying laying there in their sofa with Inori lying on his stomach. “And I can take care of the talk. It’s only for a short while you have to see the council.”

“One of those old geezers claimed they were allergic to Inori,” Shikadai stated, rubbing Inori behind her ear. “But I think they just didn’t want me to bring her there.”

“You can bring her wherever you want,” Temari said.

Shikadai sighed.

“I know it’s weird to bring one’s dog everywhere,” he said. “And it sure feels even weirder when I have to explain she is a service dog. That makes me feel so different from everyone else. ‘Look, there is the Konohan boy, the psychotic boy who needs a dog by his side, so he won’t be a walking human hazard.”

“That is not true,” Temari said, the words almost forming a lie. It was almost true. “And don’t call yourself a human hazard. Do I have to take out the list your therapist made you write about things to not call yourself and put it on the fridge again?”

“No, I don’t live here anymore, you don’t have to,” Shikadai said.

“But do I have to give it to you so you can put it up on your own fridge?”

Shikadai chuckled, but there was no laughter in his sound.

“I’m no baby anymore,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “I can take care of myself.”

“I think it’s a good idea to make a new list,” Inojin interrupted and Shikadai twisted his head to catch a glimpse of Inojin’s face. He had his head in Inojin’s lap, and the latter had been occupied with solving a sudoku that had been lying on the coffee table in the Nara living room and had because of that been silent in the discussion.

Shikadai going back and forth between his villages was something Inojin was used to, even if he missed Shikadai when he was gone, and undeniably was somewhat worried of Shikadai’s mental wellbeing when he had disrupted the routine.

“Hey,” Shikadai said and poked a finger in Inojin’s arm.

“I’m just saying that you are still a meanie to yourself sometimes,” Inojin said, burying his finger in dark hair. “There is nothing wrong with needing a service dog. I know you wouldn’t say that to me if Inori was primarily my service dog, because no one blinks twice if someone with a physical disability needs one, but as soon as you – who have something invisible – need one you bash yourself for it.”

“Ugh,” Shikadai sighed. “I guess I’m just nervous to meet them because I know they stigmatise me.”

Temari pinched her lips together, not looking at her son. She focused on the bowl of roasted chestnuts, a Sunese dessert she loved, which she was about to serve the boys. Inside, fire raged through her soul.

How come a country she loved so dearly have the rottenest ways of leading its people? She remembered when Gaara was young and faced hardships and she had just stood by the side and watched. She had seen him suffer and been too much of a coward to do anything about it. She hadn’t dared to change a thing before Rasa was dead. And now her own son was facing the same rotten behaviour and she was unable to change it once again.

She looked down at the nuts representing her home country. A place she both loved and despised so much.

And she hated what Shikadai was about to face in that country when they got there on Sunday.

_He can make it. It’s just signing a contract. We’ll talk afterwards. I’ll tell his therapist what this was all about so he can help him in case Shikadai’s takes this hard._

She turned around.

“Chestnuts?” she asked and showed the bowl to the boys. Inori sat up from her position on Shikadai’s stomach to sniff at the bowl.

“No nuts for you,” Shikadai said and redirected Inori’s snout away from the bowl. He grabbed it, stuffed his mouth full of the nuts he just like his mother loved and reached the bowl forward to Inojin. “Thanks.”

Temari smiled at him.

“But really,” Shikadai said, after having mused over the idea of leaving for Suna. “If the party is ceremonial, that kind of means I have the right to take family with me.”

Temari raised her eyebrows.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m taking you and Dad with me. My family. Your family.”

“Yes, but I mean _my_ family,” Shikadai said. “Inojin.” He looked up at Inojin snacking on the nuts, who now had his undivided attention. “And Inori of course, but she was coming with all along.”

“You want to drag me to the desert?” Inojin asked, amused. “Getting sand into the screws of my chair and ruining it? Getting stuck in the sand and need to be carried everywhere?”

“They have installed elevators into many of the houses,” Temari said. “And made the roads more stable. Not _everything_ is sand.”

“Please, come with me,” Shikadai said, and used his puppy gaze to get his way through. Inojin placed his palm playfully over Shikadai’s face to cover his eyes, knowing that he didn’t have to look many seconds into those cute eyes to cave in for whatever Shikadai wanted.

“If I can get a few days off,” Inojin said. “And I swear – if my chair breaks down because the sand gets –“

“It won’t, we’ll make sure of it,” Shikadai said.

“I can’t remember… Is… is the bathroom in your house accessible?” Inojin asked, feeling slightly embarrassed. He sometimes felt like such a burden. Someone always needed to check if buildings were accessible, if the bathrooms were big enough, always had to make such a big fuss about him. He wanted to live like he had done before, not worrying, not having to plan ahead because he wasn’t a Nara, he was a Yamanaka who took the day as it came, but those days were gone. He had to plan ahead. He had to plan bathroom visits. Everyone had to plan their lives according to his needs if they wanted him to join.

He was a burden.

“It is,” Shikadai said. “It’s huge. It has a bathtub though, instead of a shower, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay,” Inojin said, but didn’t sound too eager. He knew Shikadai really wanted him to join. They had talked about visits to Suna before, but Inojin had chickened out all the times before.

Because he feared being a burden. Times like this his self-confidence got thrusted to rock bottom and he would stare at limbs not moving and feel self-hatred wash over him because _why him, why this, why –_

The road of self-acceptance after a life changing injury as a teenager is long and tedious.

Temari chewed on her bottom lip for a second before shrugging casually. Inojin could be a positive influence during the incoming meeting and she didn’t want Shikadai’s well-being to crash down because of stigmatising old men.

“If he wants to join, then sure,” she said. “We’ll make everything we can to make your visit to us comfortable.”

Inojin smiled thinly, all self-confidence gone. Shikadai caressed Inojin’s lower arm and he bent down to kiss him.

This time around not even the warmth of Shikadai’s lips helped against the churning cold deep in the pit of his stomach.

Chocho had just finished brooming Chowi, her dog, when dinner rolled around. Grooming Chowi was always a perfect moment of reflecting, thinking. Chowi was getting older, soon turning five years old, and during these five years she had been the central pillar of Chocho’s calmness. She loved to lie on her back with her belly exposed for Chocho to groom and scratch her right where it felt the best.

Chowi always managed to bring Chocho back to her clam, after flaying around or playing the dramatics in her life, and when going out on walks or when grooming her, Chocho was always thinking. About her life, future, team, dream and goals.

“Hello, butterfly,” Choji said as he sat by his daughter’s side. He had a bag of chips in his hand and he held the bag in front of Chocho. Her yellow eyes glimmered at the sight of the unopened bag and she accepted it, opening it to devour the chips. “I saw you had your thinking face.”

Chocho looked up at her father.

“Was just thinking,” she said, before pressing a potato chip into her mouth. “On Monday we have the simulation mission for our jonin application. If we pass the simulation, we can write the test and then… then I’ll maybe become jonin.”

“Who are with you in the simulation mission?”

“Sarada, Mitsuki and I are in one team,” Chocho explained. “Sumire, Boruto and Wasabi in another team.”

“You have done missions a lot with Team 7 the last year,” Choji said. “If you all pass, you’ll probably form a new team.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Chocho said.

“Don’t you think you can make it?” Choji asked. “You have developed so much these past few years. Your Lightning Style is impeccable. When I see you, I see a Kumor Warrior. I see your mother. Your Akimichi style is just as strong. The clan is proud of you. I am sure you can make it, my butterfly.” He took a sharp breath. “And if you weren’t to graduate to jonin I wouldn’t love you less. I am proud of you no matter which status you have.”

Chocho couldn’t but smile when her dad made these efforts.

“Do you think I am abandoning them?” she then asked, letting her worries take the form of words instead of anxious thoughts. “Shikadai and Inojin.”

“Why would you think you are abandoning them?” Choji asked. “You visit them almost every day, you listen to them when they need an ear and you always lend a shoulder to lean on when they struggle. You share their sorrows and happiness as well. There is no way what you’ve done can been seen as abandonment.”

“I know, Dad,” Chocho said. “But it’s not about what I’ve done with them, it’s about what I can do without them. They can’t graduate from chunin. They can’t become jonin, while I can. I was just thinking they’d be jealous or mad at me for trying further, just because I _can.”_

Choji looked at his daughter, waiting a moment to see if she wanted to add something. She didn’t and Choji offered her a smile instead.

“If your best friends held back their ambitions and dreams because of you, what would you think then?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Would you be happy if you knew your best friends declined a chance, out of solidarity because you can’t have the same chance?” Choji asked nicely. His smile was warm.

“I don’t know,” Chocho said. “I would be mad at them for putting my needs in front of their own.”

“Exactly,” Choji said. “And they won’t love you any less just because your assignments at work will change a bit. You are a good shinobi, and they will most likely be happy for you instead of bitter that they can’t do the same. Isn’t Shikadai happy he can now work for shinobi in his own situation, work for the DCEs?”

Chocho thought for a moment before nodding.

“I think he likes it,” she said. “It’s good for him without putting him in the stress the usual shinobi work puts him in.”

“And does Inojin likes his new job?”

Inojin had a year prior begun a working at a new position, moved from working for the intranet work to security, keeping track of the sensory dome around Konoha. He never went out in the field and worked in front of a computer, but it was something he liked doing.

“Yes,” Chocho said.

“Then you don’t have to worry,” Choji said. “You want them to achieve their dreams. They want you to achieve your dream as well.” He nudged her back. “Go and fight for your dream, my girl.”

Chocho smiled broadly and leaned against Choji’s soft side.

“Thank you, Dad,” she said.

“Any time, my butterfly girl,” Choji said and squeezed her.

Later that day Chocho put on armour to prepare herself, to train a little bit more, for the simulated mission in order to graduate to jonin; a mission teachers were supervising. For a while now Chocho had taken and completed missions that were put in her application record, along with Mitsuki, Sarada and Boruto. They were ready for this. Ready for the new title. The written test would be immediately after the hopefully succeeded mission, a way to test if they can still come forth with information after a very stressful situation.

Mitsuki and Chocho had studied for the test together, tested each other, made memory lists and games, everything. She was sure both she and Mitsuki would graduate.

Chocho was weirdly nervous, but also happy.

It was time for her to move on from the terrible guilt and smile about her own abilities again.

Sunday came quickly around.

“You think you got everything?” Shikadai asked. He was leaning against the sofa, sitting on the floor. He was a little bit paler, as his mind was racing in bad directions. Anxiety was for this occasion setting in, hard and unforgiving just like it always did. He cleared his throat softly. “Just – just gotta get a bag for Inori’s food as well and then I am pretty much done.” He rubbed Inori, who was sitting beside him, quickly. She licked his hand to offer support, having already sensed he was anxious and looked for signals if an attack were about to erupt.

Inojin had two bags instead of one. He was sitting opposite to Shikadai, on the floor as well.

“I have catheters for like a month,” he said, deciding to not give Shikadai’s anxiety more attention, letting him have it as normal as possible. Shikadai was thankful for that, that Inojin wasn’t constantly asking him how he was doing. They both knew he was feeling shit and trying to normalise the situation was helpful.

“What?” Shikadai asked jokingly.

“I use normally seven or eight a day,” Inojin said. “But now I’ve packed like twelve a day. Just in case. And everything for my bowel programme too.”

“But don’t you have to do that only twice,” Shikadai said, already used to Inojin’s routines. His gaze was fidgety, and he stared up at the ceiling. Inojin swallowed. Soon he might need to address that Shikadai was currently struggling. “Monday and on Thursday, when we leave?”

“Well, I don’t want to shit myself when we are on a party, so I’m being precautious,” Inojin said, and he had a point. It had happened sometimes. “And everything else too. I think I’m done.”

All his items were spread around him on the floor. The floor was his greatest work area when he was doing something more physical, like packing bags, or fixing items. It was easier to get more space, and he could shuffle around if he needed.

That lead to Shikadai sitting on the floor a lot more than usual too.

“How are you feeling?” Inojin finally asked, after having decided to address the elephant in the room.

“Bad,” Shikadai sighed. “I don’t know if I want to leave. I’m scared.”

“But isn’t visiting your family worth it?” Inojin said. He grabbed his legs, which he had had crossed in front of him, and made them straight, before placing his palms securely at the floor and shuffled over to Shikadai. The trick to move on the floor was pulling oneself backwards, with the back facing the direction one is going, and that way get around without the chair.

Inojin shuffled himself to sit by Shikadai’s side, placing a hand on top of Shikadai’s, lacing their fingers together.

“Yes,” Shikadai said. “I want to eat the cake and keep it.” He closed his eyes and tipped his cheek down. He squeezed Inojin’s fingers. “I know they will talk shit about me. They’ve done it before, and I… _hate_ it. I want them to see me as who I was before.”

“I know,” Inojin said. “I know, sweetie. But you will power your way through it. You will look them in the eye and be strong. You are greater than what they make you seem to be. And even if they behave nasty, know that that only reflect on them, not on you. They are assholes, and you are the same wonderful Shikadai I know.”

“How can you love me?” Shikadai asked with a tiny voice. “I can’t…” He looked over at the cabinet where Inori’s food was stored, but in that moment, he felt so drained of everything, that the thought of standing up and scoop Inori’s food into a smaller plastic bag to take with him felt unbearably tough. “I can’t even take care of my dog.”

“Nonsense,” Inojin said and rubbed his shoulder. “Loving you is so, so easy. You are a fantastic owner to Inori, and she loves you. It’s okay to not push yourself when you are struggling. I’ll get her food.”

He kissed Shikadai’s temple and shifted himself, so his back was facing the kitchen cabinet and began shuffling himself on his butt towards it. Shikadai didn’t look and Inojin imagined he was going through reality checks or was talking inside his head to Hama, who was probably awake and talkative during this vulnerable moment.

Inojin decided to not interfere and opened the cabinet, scooping Inori’s dry food into a plastic bag they could take with them to Suna. Inori pointed her ears towards Inojin, but contrary what a dog usually would do – which was run towards the food to check if one might get a little kibble – she stayed glued by Shikadai’s side, licking his hand, reminding him that this is reality and that she was there for him. Inojin couldn’t but smile a tiny bit as he scooped the kibbles for Inori into the bag and secured it.

By the time Inojin had shuffled himself back, Shikadai looked up again, and his gazed seemed tired but he smiled and that melted Inojin’s heart.

“Got Inori’s food,” Inojin said.

“Thanks,” Shikadai said and leaned in for a kiss.

“We are here for you,” Inojin said. “And it’s good to challenge yourself so you don’t begin isolating yourself. Let’s go over to Suna. I’m excited. Haven’t been there for quite a lot of years now.”

Shikadai chuckled a bit and stood up on shaky legs. He glanced over to Inojin’s open bag.

“A screwdriver?”

“Yes, because I still don’t think I will make it back home without taking out the wheels at least once to clean the bolts of sand,” Inojin said.

“Dude, my uncle is a master mechanic, you don’t have to take your _own_ screwdriver with you,” Shikadai said.

“Don’t touch it,” Inojin said when Shikadai leaned forward to take a look at it. “Let me be meticulous with this if I want to.”

Shikadai smiled a bit more and pushed the wheelchair closer to Inojin, so he’d have it easier to get up in it. Inojin took the gesture with gratitude, placed his butt right by the footplate, back facing the chair, held a strong grip around the frame of the wheelchair and with the help of the tattoos and arm strength lifted himself up in the chair.

It had taken months – _months –_ to learn the floor to chair transfer, but now, three years in on his journey, it went smoothly.

“Mum and Dad are going to water our flowers when we are away,” Inojin informed and looked over at the pots they had by their window. There had been no discussion about the amount of flowers in their house, Shikadai had just agreed on everything – well, everything except calling himself a _flower dad_ like Inojin liked to do when talking to his flowers.

“Cool,” Shikadai said. “But they could survive a few days without water.”

“How dare you?” Inojin asked. “No torturing the flowers. And oh, your parents are downstairs. I sense them now.”

“Well,” Shikadai said, anxiety still holding a tiny grip around his heart. “Better get going then.”

The train ride went smoothly, even if the toilet was a tiny bit too crammed for Inojin and Shikadai helped him by guarding the wheelchair he had to leave outside the booth, but other than said momentarily panic the first phase of their travel was okay.

The main roads in Suna had been paved, which was a relief for Inojin, but to Inori’s great discomfort she had to wear thin socks since her pads would otherwise burn against the hot surface. She had been rather annoyed in the train when Shikadai had put them on her and the whole family had laughed at her sad face when she realised she had to walk with the socks on.

As they walked along the paved roads of Suna Inojin couldn’t help but notice the gazes from the random bypasses. The people of Suna stared, some of them even pointed at him, leaned to whisper to their friends. They didn’t even care to hide their reaction at this different way of moving around.

_Are wheelchair users such a rare sight here?_ Inojin pondered, feeling his heart sink in his chest at the stares.

“It’s only been five years since the town had a major restauration, and had the roads paved,” Temari said. “Before then moving around with a wheelchair was so hard the majority of disabled people never left their homes.”

Inojin swallowed.

“What – what happened to them then?”

He couldn’t imagine a life confined to his home, locked inside an apartment because the world wasn’t made for people who moved around like him. Because that wouldn’t have been a life at all.

He was almost as active as he had been before his injury, minus the missions of course, but he had a job, a boyfriend, and a dog. He went to the gym, on dog walks, and he went to the grocery store. He lived a close to normal life.

He felt immediately devastated at the thought of the fates of the people in Suna, who had faced the same life-changing situation as him. Because he was not the first one with this injury and he would not be the last.

Temari didn’t want to tell Inojin, but he had probably figured out the answer already.

“Many of them faced early deaths,” she said. “Pressure sores turning into fatal infections because they never left their beds. Kidney failure as a result of poor bladder management. Many chose to die. And we failed them. We, as a nation, failed our shinobi who did not fall in battle, but because of this.” She took a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, Inojin, if I dropped your mood. But I’ll let you know that we are working on changing. We are working on installing elevators, on paving roads, on a system making life easier for shinobi living with disabilities. So, keep your head up high, because these people need to see more individuals like you.”

Inojin pinched his lips together, stared at the ground for a second before looking up again.

_Be the change you want to see. Follow your dreams._

Inojin dreamed of an easier life for people like him. For people who didn’t follow the mould shinobi were supposed to fit into. For people moving around differently.

He stared back up in the eyes of a woman staring at him as he wheeled past her and a hand belonging to Shikadai searched for his.

Let them stare. At their hands holding around each other, at Inojin’s mobility aid, at them as a couple.

Let them stare and Inojin would stare back and challenge them.

Temari hadn’t seen Kankuro and Gaara in a while and when Shikamaru had effectively fallen asleep in the bed that was still in Temari’s old bedroom and Shikadai, Inojin and Shinki were sitting in the living room playing cards, she and her brothers went out to a bar a short walk from their house. It was the bar Temari and Kankuro had used to visit when they became of age, and it was also a bar that they had used as a hiding place when discussing sensitive matters. It had a shelter deep below the ground, behind a corner inside no costumer had access to unless they showed a black key to the owner. It was a bar safe for the royal family, with all drama they had had to untangle over the years.

“So, I saw you have begun cleaning up the cellar,” Temari said. The moment she had entered her childhood home she had reacted at the unlocked basement door by the hall, the first thing one notices when one walks inside the house. Even Shikadai had taken note that the metal handle was turned in a different direction and he had peeked down the darkness. He had never visited the cellar before, as it had been locked all his life. “Why did you want to open that can of worms of free will?”

Kankuro cleared his throat.

“It’s not exactly free will,” he said and Gaara sighed deeply.

“Don’t spread lies now,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“What do you mean?” Temari asked. “What’s going on with the basement?”

“The council began cleaning up the storage room of the official townhouse and manipulated Gaara into thinking it would be a good idea to clean the cellar in our house too,” Kankuro declared.

“Don’t you think it’s nice to at least know what all those binders up in the shelves are about,” Gaara sighed.

“I don’t care about dusty binders when we have to clean out Dad’s old things before we even reach the shelves,” Kankuro muttered.

“Wait, is the cellar filled with _Dad’s_ old stuff?” Temari asked, nose wrinkled. She had never put her foot into the basement. Even during her childhood when Rasa was alive the cellar had been a room protected by him, and Temari had never had any interest in any dusty documents in there. “Ugh, burn down the whole cellar and all the dusty binders. I bet they all are just Dad’s protocols from some old meetings of whatever. He loved collecting paper and having written agreements in case he needed it.”

“I think it’s something more than that,” Gaara said. “The council asked specifically for those binders.”

Temari looked up from her sake.

“Why would they care?” she said. “That cellar has been untouched since forever. What is all of a sudden so important they need to see forsaken binders from over forty years back?”

“I have no idea,” Gaara said.

Temari looked over to Kankuro.

“This sounds fishy,” she said. “If you know the council is hungry for some document that has been hidden in our cellar, how come you haven’t gone in a search for it because you are dying of curiosity?”

Kankuro shrugged.

“Mum’s things are there too,” he said, sounding small. Temari bit her lip. “I just… don’t feel like routing around in their old things.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “We can do it together.”

That was the moment Baki chose to enter the bar. The trio of siblings turned their attention to him.

“Hello,” Temari said, happy to see Baki again. She hadn’t seen him in a long while. Baki’s age was showing in the way his face wrinkled as he smiled towards them, the man was well over sixty after all.

“Princess,” he said and nodded. “I’m glad to see you in good health.” He turned towards Kankuro and Gaara. “Lord Kankuro. Lord Kazekage.”

“You don’t have to be so formal,” Temari said, smiling. “How did you know we were here?”

“Shinki told me,” Baki said, taking a seat beside the trio. “I went to yours first to see if you were there. The younglings were there, and I think Shikamaru was sleeping.” He paused, wrinkled his forehead. “Your dog licked my hand.”

Temari chuckled.

“Oh, you met Inori,” she said. “She is really gentle.”

“I still find it weird to let the dogs inside the living room,” Baki said. “But never mind my old, archaic views of pet keeping.” He took a deep breath, a breath too deep for it to bring anything but bad news, and looked around in the bar. It was close to empty. “We must move to the darkest corner. I don’t want any eavesdroppers.”

He lifted his hand and exposed a black key. The key to the shelter beyond any listening ears.

“What is wrong?” Kankuro asked. They only used that key when they had to talk in a place they were sure wasn’t guarded. The office halls were usually out of the question for that, and their own home could have spies around the corners.

“Let’s speak quietly now,” Baki said and they moved past the counter where Baki flashed the black key, down the stairs in the darkest corner in the bar to the shelter to which the key fit. He unlocked the shelter and ushered the siblings inside.

When they had sat down around the table in the room, he cleared his throat again, leaning against his elbows on the table. He seemed troubled.

“Has the council asked for the binders in your basement yet?”

The siblings stared at him.

“What is going on?” Gaara asked. “That cellar has been untouched ever since father’s death. We have let it collect dust and no one has ever showed interest in it or the rubble inside it. How come you knew the council was interested in any document in there?”

“I heard they had cleared the storage in the office halls,” Baki said. “There is a reason for the big clean up. They are searching for certain certificates and documents. Papers we are sure are stored in your basement instead of the official storage in the Kazekage’s building.”

Gaara swallowed.

“What documents?”

Baki sighed in defeat.

“Before you become angry at me,” he said, thinking hard about how to express himself. “Karura’s death has been a tough spot in your hearts and I didn’t want to upset you when you were younger. It was even forbidden to talk about this for as long as Rasa was alive, and after his death we all chose silence for your sake. I wanted you all to imagine your mother however you wanted, whatever fantasies you had of her that Yashamaru and Rasa had told you about. And a lot of that is true. She was a wonderful woman.”

Temari felt her mouth dry. Baki was right, her mother was a sour spot in her heart, and she had grieved her life as a motherless child her entire childhood, up until after Shikadai’s birth. Now she was at peace with her past, at last. Somehow, Temari felt that peace crumbling inside her.

“And after Shikadai was diagnosed, and I knew how hard this was for your family… I just couldn’t tell you, even then.” Baki was now looking right at Temari. Her heart almost stopped. “But now, for your and his sake, I cannot keep silent anymore. The council is after Karura’s documentation from her past hospitalisations. Rasa kept every doctor’s note, every prescription, journal, everything, and hid them away. They want those.”

Baki took a deep breath.

“Karura had the same psychotic disorder as Shikadai has,” he finally said. “It turns out it’s a hereditary disorder.”

Temari’s stomach grew cold, all peace with her past now destroyed inside her.

“And it turned out that you, Temari, inherited the so called ‘madness gene’ and passed it on to Shikadai,” Baki continued.

_No, this can’t be true, this can’t be true._

“It never activated inside you, but inside him it did,” Baki finished. “I’m sorry.”

Temari didn’t even feel the tear travelling down her cheek.

_It is my fault Shikadai developed a mental illness._

_It is my fault._

_I cursed my child._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Temari. Let's see how she takes these news. And what about Shikadai? And what about THE COUNCIL?
> 
> *rub hands together*
> 
> You may need a tissue the next chapter.


	6. Family Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: description of ECT treatment and mental health issues. Outdated terms of treatment and the illness is used on purpose in this chapter.

“What?” Temari just said. “That can’t be true. Oh, please tell me it isn’t true.”

“It’s not possible to tell whether Kankuro or Gaara inherited the ‘madness gene’ as well, or if you were the only one,” Baki said.

All the stories of their mother, every photography they had seen, _nothing_ had hinted that Karura had been dealing with mental health problems. _Nothing._ Temari felt like all her life had been a lie.

The council, the high lords and ladies of Suna, had _known this_ yet chosen to not say anything. Shikadai’s diagnoses were hidden from the public, mostly because Temari didn’t see how it was anyone’s business than Shikadai’s own which illnesses he had and didn’t have, and he didn’t owe anyone to tell it if he didn’t want to, but the council knew.

“What are they going to do with those documents?” Temari whispered. “Blackmail us?”

Baki bit his lips, clearly figuring out how to drop the second bomb to the woman he almost regarded as his daughter.

“The reason you brought Shikadai here was to disinherit him from the Kage seat,” Baki began.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Temari said. “Shikadai doesn’t know anything yet. I hope it would only be a single document he has to sign and then it’ll be over.”

“For how long did they pester you?” Gaara asked.

“Ever since Shikadai turned eighteen,” Temari said. “They meant he was now an adult and could face consequences, telling me that he would never be a Kazekage, that he will never be because he is too unreliable and too ‘insane’. It hurt like hell, because that was the time when he had a relapse again and I was stressed as it was. And they wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t give me a break.”

Baki sighed.

“There was a major uproar among the higher class when Rasa fell in love with Karura and they became a couple,” Baki said. “The council wanted him to find another woman, but he refused. He fought hard for her rights, even when she was… what is the correct term for being insane?”

“Being in a psychosis,” Temari said, voice biting. It had been important for Shikadai that his friends and family used the milder and less offensive terms, and Temari would do anything to ease his insecurities.

“Yes,” Baki said. “Rasa fought a war against the council for Karura’s rights. He made sure she got the right treatment, he made sure the nurses took care of her and didn’t use unnecessary violence, like belting or forced injections, he… he loved her, despite her illness.”

That didn’t sound like the same man the siblings had grown up with. The man they knew was a harsh one, a father not accepting failure or weakness.

Temari couldn’t imagine him be gentle and understanding, not the way Inojin was with Shikadai. Not the way Inojin sat with him, held him, prompted him to continue the day when Shikadai wasn’t feeling well. Thanks to Inojin the worst days were far fewer. Now Shikadai could have entire weeks when he felt light and happy, without the symptoms disturbing his life.

“But why – “Temari began, but she didn’t even know what she wanted to ask. Kankuro just stared at Baki and Gaara had his mouth in a hard line. None of the siblings said anything, just let the new information set inside them.

“Tell us everything,” Kankuro finally said, voice nothing short but devastated. Baki leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Rasa and Karura knew each other since childhood,” he said. “And it was known they had feelings for each other when they grew older and no one opposed the blooming relationship. Until Karura’s first psychosis. She attempted suicide, frightened because of what she was seeing and hearing.” Baki swallowed. “I am sure Rasa had all her hallucinations documented in those binders, if you want to take a look. She was deemed insane and the council urged Rasa to find another woman, as he was already the destined heir. The Third was already gone by that time. What was back then called lunacy and madness wasn’t looked at with empathy.”

“Oh, mum…” Temari said. She could only imagine how hard it must have been for both her mother and father in that moment, living in a society that wanted to ruin their relationship. And it could be hard to love a mentally ill person, when their actions change due to psychosis. Shikadai had not only once, but a few times claimed he hated Temari while being symptomatic, on all three occasions he had spiralled down, and each time, even if Temari _knew_ he never meant it, it had hurt.

“So, the council opposed dad’s relationship because our mum was sick,” Kankuro said, voice rising with passion. “Is that why Shikadai is going to be disinherited? Because the council is a collection of shitty discriminating, stigmatising old dicks? Then I will oppose this idiotic way. We know individuals with a mental illness can be part of society with the correct help, and my nephew does _not_ deserve to be discriminated because – “

Baki put up his hand to silence Kankuro.

“The council is not disinheriting Shikadai because they think he is insane,” Baki said. “That is only a cover for you, for everyone, because they weren’t going to tell about your mother to you. It seemed like the simplest reason for them, so they’ve chosen to bear the cloak of a sinner in front of you and Suna.”

“What is the real reason, then?” Temari spat, voice hard.

“It was believed that… Rasa and Karura got you, Temari, as a way to secure their marriage,” Baki said. “That Rasa getting a child together with a ‘mad’ woman was a hypothetical middle finger to the elders, because now they were bound through a child. He was allowed to marry Karura, and they got married when she was six months pregnant with you, Temari.”

Temari swallowed, fearing what to hear next.

“The council did, very reluctantly, give Rasa blessing for his marriage,” Baki said. “But not everyone did. A short while after your birth a group of shinobi tried to assassin Karura, not once, but twice. She was deeply scarred from the situation, and Rasa was furious. It turned out all the shinobi who tried to assassin Karura had been hired by someone they would only call “The Nameless One”. This person was a citizen of Suna, that was clear since they cared so much about Suna’s regal family, but they were never found. Rasa did everything to find the Nameless one, but with no avail.”

Baki took a deeper breath.

“The council has reason to believe the Nameless One is still alive here in our village and knows that Shikadai developed the same illness,” he said. “The council thinks disinheriting him, making sure he won’t ever become the Kazekage, will satisfy this brutal person’s needs. We think they fear that Shikadai might, as a person having this illness, become Kazekage, which they obviously do not want. We… think they as we speak might be plotting to assassinate Shikadai.”

The council didn’t want the papers in order to discriminate Shikadai. They wanted them to _save him._ The situation unfolded right in front of their eyes. A possible assassin would want those documents to prove Shikadai’s possibilities for inheriting the disorder.

Time stopped for Temari as the words penetrated her. Then she stood up and _smashed_ her fist down the table.

“ _NO!”_ she yelled. “No! No! That can’t be true! It can’t – can’t be true! I don’t… fucking hell.”

She covered her mouth, taking a shaking breath.

“For four years… four years have I feared for Shikadai,” she said with a shaking voice. “Four years ago, we let him go to Kumo in the North, we let our happy boy go, and the boy who returned was not the same anymore. It has been a four-year journey of acceptance, of worrying, of rebuilding his life. Three years ago, his boyfriend was under threat of assassination, and that is a whole another story which traumatised them both, and now you tell me _Shikadai_ is targeted by someone we don’t even know the name of?” She almost growled like a beast. “Because of something he can’t control? Because his dopamine levels overstimulate his brain?”

Baki let Temari get her tantrum out.

“We don’t know the motives of this Nameless one,” he said. “It might be that they simply hate the thought of someone living with a disorder being in such a high position of our village. It might be some personal grudge they have had with Karura before. We don’t know. Rasa did everything to find them, but we failed.”

The company of four was silent for a while. This was a lot to take in. Right before Temari was about to stand up to yell that she was not going to rout about in the cellar to find these documents, because she didn’t want to know all the secrets everyone held from them, Baki opened his mouth again.

“She loved you all,” he said. “She felt much better after you came. She was hospitalised once after the birth of Temari, and then never again. She loved being pregnant, she claimed she felt happier than ever while having a baby inside her. That is why her death destroyed Rasa. Because he had saved her from suicide, saved her from assassins, only to watch her die by what she loved the most. He was never the same after her death.”

Kankuro hid his face behind his hands. Gaara was staring down. Maybe guilt was once again raging through his body, the feeling once so foreign but became like an old friend to him after the rage and anger left his mind. Guilty over having killed his own mother, who loved him more than anything.

Suddenly his great power made sense. Karura had survived deaths by hatred and died a death of love instead.

Suddenly Rasa’s difficult behaviour made sense. He grieved for years, resented Gaara for being that one force too much for Karura’s body. She hadn’t wanted to die, but her body had been dictating the rules of life and death.

Temari was the only one who finally managed to open her mouth.

“Fuck you for not telling us earlier,” she whispered.

She was over forty already, having lived a life already, and never gotten to know this secret. She tightened her firsts.

“Fuck you,” she said again, but didn’t know who she was aiming the curse to.

Maybe all she wanted was to curse the world.

They made their way back to their home, and Temari walked immediately to the room Shikadai and Inojin was sharing. She listened by the door to make sure she didn’t walk into something the boys (and she) would be embarrassed by, and when the only thing she heard was silence she chanced to open the door.

It was already closer to ten, so Shikadai had been laying in bed for quite some time already. He might have fallen asleep already or was at least in the process of it.

She opened the door and Inojin turned his head to look at who the intrudes was. He was lying on his side, with his back facing Shikadai, who had snuggled really close to him and had buried his face in Inojin’s long hair.

“Hi,” Inojin said, and his voice gave it away that he found it a little bit weird that Temari opened the door to check in on them. Everything had gone fine this evening, and Shikadai had laughed and has a really nice time with his cousin. Inojin twisted his head to shoot a glance at Shikadai. “Sweetie?” No answer. “He is asleep already.”

“Good,” Temari said. “Did you have a nice evening?”

“Yes,” Inojin said. “We had a really good time.” He still sounded a tiny bit suspicious, so Temari just smiled to him.

“Sounds good,” she said. “Good night.”

“Night,” Inojin replied and placed his head on the pillow again. Temari closed the door. She walked then over to the kitchen and opened Shikadai’s fabric pouch that he had left on the counter after taking his evening medicine. She took out the blister packs, staring at the empty sockets and the sockets that still had pills in them, trying to figure out if he had taken everything. There was also a glass bottle of another medicine.

He was currently on both antipsychotics and an anti-anxiety. Sometimes the medications switched, depending on his wellbeing, but the foundation was found for what his mind needed. An expensive cocktail.

“What are you doing?” Shikamaru gently asked. Temari turned around, surprised he wasn’t in bed. Stalking through Shikadai’s medication wasn’t unusual for the parents to do, but ever since Shikadai moved in with Inojin, Inojin was the person who double-checked he was taking his medication. Shikadai was for the most part taking it without complaining but sometimes he was reluctant and tired of it, and Inojin had to remind him.

It was important to take the medicines every day. One day without antipsychotics could make the symptoms stronger.

“I saw him take them,” Shikamaru said, walked up behind Temari until he was leaning against her back, placing his chin on Temari’s shoulder. Temari didn’t move, feeling tense, something Shikamaru noticed. “Are you worried? What is wrong?”

Temari closed her eyes, feeling tears escape down her cheeks.

“Everything.”

The siblings and Shikamaru decided to wait the night and go to the basement the following morning, since the lamps in the cellar were broken since long and it was pitch black in there. They wanted some hours to reflect the shocking news, and Temari didn’t sleep well that night.

All she could think of was that cursed gene, present in every cell in her body. Every cell bore a weakness, yet that weakness had never showed itself. Temari wondered why. She had seen plenty of horrifying events during her life. She had grieved her family during multiple occasions, she has been exposed to horrors similar, if not worse, to those Shikadai had faced, yet she had never fallen ill. The illness had never developed in her.

Why had it developed inside Shikadai?

She wondered if there had been any signs. Were the lethargies he had showed as a teen not laziness, nor some childish teenage defiance, but signs of mental illness? Had it been negative symptoms, the depression-like symptoms for a psychotic disorder? Had the first diagnosis he had gotten after Kumo first been correct and _that_ was the jumpstart for the _other_ illness to develop, or had he been misdiagnosed from the start until his second breakdown?

There were so many questions and no answers and _god damnit_ now Temari was crying against Shikamaru’s chest again.

He didn’t say anything. He just held her and let his hands tangle itself into her hair. And he just held on tight.

The following morning, when Shikadai, Inojin and Shinki were eating breakfast and talking, the siblings and Shikamaru walked down the stairs to the basement. They had to find out what were inside those binders.

The reason no one had ever had interest in checking the full bookshelves of Rasa’s was that there were tons of other rubbish in the way. Chests filled with clothes and bed sheets, tables, broken shelves, multiple broken puppets from Kankuro’s childhood and items since long ruined or destroyed that had never been thrown out, but into the basement instead.

Temari didn’t even look at the dump of rubbish in front of the bookshelves stacked again the wall farthest away from the door. Instead, she jumped up and walked over the ruined furniture to the bookshelf. She dug her fingers between two binders and ripped one out while standing on a sofa, not even aware of what the men were doing. She just had to know, had to read.

The binder she had in her hand was rather thin and she opened it with shaking hands.

_First electroshock therapy_

_Twelfth of May_

_Karura was excited this morning to get the first electroshock session. She has been dreaming about a cure, and the doctors had an optimistic outlook. Hopefully it works!_

_-R_

_Second electroshock therapy_

_Fourteenth of May_

_The electroshock wasn’t really as we expected. Karura was afraid and cried outside the room. There were other patients too, ‘a collection of lunatics’ as the doctors called the poor people. I was angry at how they treated the likes of Karura. We saw the procedure from the window when another woman, Akari, the friend Karura gained from the evaluation, got it done. The triggered seizure wasn’t beautiful to look at and it scared Karura. There was no privacy, everyone could see from the window. Karura wondered why they wouldn’t sedate the patients, but the doctors just shrugged. ‘Too expensive’ my ass. When I become Kazekage I will try to place more money into our health care. It is bloody torture to keep patients awake when they electroshock their brains._

_-R_

Temari felt nausea rise in her throat.

_Eleventh electroshock_

_Second of June_

_Karura had her final electroshock session today. She can’t yet say if it has helped, but I think she smile more every day. It will be wonderful to let the bruises around her wrists heal. The doctors tighten the belts around her wrists so hard. Akari can’t either tell if she feels better, but her fiancé had also a quite positive outlook on her future. I’m glad Karura has a friend that goes through the same as she._

_The downside is that Karura has suffered memory loss as a side effect from the electric shocks. I have to remind her to do small everyday activities, like that it’s dinner time. Hopefully her short-time memory will return soon._

_-R_

The whole binder was a diary documenting the electroshock therapy Karura had gone through.

“Oh my god,” Temari whispered as she closed the binder and threw it over to Shikamaru, who fumbled with his reading glasses to be able to see what the binder contained. Temari opened the following binder to look at carefully drawn images of a nightmare girl.

There was a black and white artwork of a sitting girl with her whole head twisted a bit, so it looked like her neck was broken. The girl had thick, beautiful hair curling over he shoulders and eyes black and empty.

_Artwork of Karura’s most common visual hallucination. “Rusi”. Usually sits in corners and make sounds resembling choking. Sometimes she laughs. She never says anything with human words. Karura is not afraid of Rusi, but if she turns her back towards a corner, it is safe to assume she is seeing Rusi there._

_There is no other character that Karura is seeing often. The other visual hallucinations are shadows and snakes. She is aware Rusi is a hallucination, but the shadows make her nervous and unfocused if present. She almost always thinks the snakes are real and we must do reality checks. She is not afraid of the snakes, thank heavens._

Temari switched page.

_Auditory hallucinations…_

Temari switched page.

_Common delusions and how to do reality checks when Karura becomes delusional…_

Temari threw the binder to Kankuro and opened the next one.

The binders were full of information, journals and diaries discussing Karura’s health and journey as a young woman living with a mental health problem. There was detailed journaling about her medication, which was only one single pill a day that Temari was not surprised didn’t work to the full effect. An illness like this demanded a mix of medications, at least in Shikadai’s case and she wasn’t surprised if Karura would have felt better with a variety of medications.

Her eyes began slowly fill with tears and her face felt increasingly hot as she tore her way through pages and pages of diary entries of a beloved woman and a husband doing everything in his powers to make her feel safe and happy.

Then she came to the days she had been born. The day Kankuro was born. She read words and words of happiness.

 _On a sad note, Akari, Karura's friend who suffered the same illness died in the hospital the other day. I haven't told her yet. I don't want Karura to experience grief right now._ _She is smiling so much nowadays. Right now, she is pinching my arm because she thinks I should stop these journals now that she has her life on track. She says the children helps a lot. Kankuro lifted his head of his own the other week and Temari is almost talking in full sentences now. She has a big imagination, that joy of a child. Maybe I should begin journaling about the children instead?_

“They loved us…” Temari whispered and in that moment, she shrunk to her younger teenage self, the girl who murdered because that was the only thing that made her dad happy, the girl who would slam her door shut and yell how much she hated the world because a demon lived in her home and her father hated her.

A great anger and resentment rose inside her. She could have had a happy upbringing if her mother wouldn’t have been dead.

She felt a hot tear once again trail down her cheek. It continued down her neck and stayed in place when it reached the valley above her collarbone.

“They loved us,” she repeated before sitting down in the dirty sofa she had been standing on. Shikamaru hurried over to her side, to embrace her.

The strongest kunoichi of them all cried against his neck, as all her childhood traumas were re-lived inside her head.

Gaara didn’t utter a word. He just kept going through the binders, until he found the one he was looking for. He pinched his lips together, staring at the sentence in front of him on a brittle page.

_Karura declared dead at 19.56, 19 th of January. The child survived._

The grip around the binder tightened as Gaara flipped over the empty pages after that. Just before he was ready to place the binder away, he noticed a note stuck between the pages at the end of the book.

He removed the note carefully, reading it as his throat turned dry.

_My deepest condolences that Karura died in childbed. Now my work here is done. But remember, Rasa, if it turns out Karura’s legacy was inherited by your children, I will make sure it ends. Karura’s legacy will end._

_-The Nameless One_

The lives of the members of Ino-Shika-Cho had during the past years not been the easiest, at least not for the youngest generation.

First, Chocho’s heritage to Kumo put them all on the doorstep of death.

A year later, Inojin’s family on his father’s side turned out to think homicide was a legit way to handle the family and that resulted in Inojin’s life being changed forever.

And now, Shikadai’s biological ties to Karura of the Sand, will once again put them in a predicament, that surely will not have the happiest of endings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: "Electroshock therapy" or Electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) as it is called today, is not anymore too commonly used for treating psychotic disorders such as schizophrenia. ECT is mainly used for treating depression. Nowadays patients are sedated during that process.
> 
> Yeah... Maybe you found the theme now. Each family bring the kids harm in turn. Hehe.
> 
> And oh, fun fact! When I was planning To dance above the Stars and only knew that the main conflict was going to be that Inojin was cursed with the tongue seal I had the enemy be called The Nameless One before I figured out who the enemy actually was. So I transferred The Nameless One to this story instead!


	7. The truth is out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff for you in between the darkness!

“Stretch me,” Inojin said, half-drowsily and eyes still closed, and Shikadai grunted something back.

“You _can_ stretch yourself,” he muttered, because Inojin could do it perfectly on his own. When he did stretch himself, he usually did it on the floor for better control, but doing it in bed – and most importantly – having Shikadai do it for him gave him some sorts of kicks.

“Pleaaase,” Inojin said and tapped Shikadai with his finger until he got out of bed. He waddled over to Inojin’s side.

“I am a weak boyfriend, aren’t I?” he sighed and lifted one of Inojin’s legs.

“The weakest of them all,” Inojin teased. “But I like it. I like watching you while you do this.”

Shikadai stuck out his tongue as he bent Inojin’s leg over his stomach.

“And when you are done, you better go to the bathroom before me, because I am going to take over it,” Inojin said.

“Ah,” Shikadai said as he moved over to the other leg. “It’s bowel day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Inojin sighed. “And I’ll shower too.”

“Sounds good,” Shikadai said as he finished up the stretching. “Your feet are so cold.” He held Inojin’s foot between his hands, warming them up.

“That is why you are stretching me,” Inojin said and smiled. “To make sure some blood reach to the feet, heh he.”

Shikadai kissed the topside of Inojin’s foot, feeling the baby-smooth skin on it with his lips. Inojin’s feet were always so clean and soft, mostly because he was unable to sweat below his point of injury and his feet never sweated. It was a curious thing, as Inojin’s torso could be drenched in sweat after the gym he visited multiple times a week, while his legs were dry as if he never had moved. He claimed however that he ‘phantom sweated’, which meant he imagined feeling sweat, but when he touched his skin he didn’t feel anything, nor had he sweated.

Shikadai pressed his lips once more against the soft skin, wishing so badly that Inojin would be able to feel it, but maybe in another time, in another universe that was not theirs.

“You’re done,” he said and reached forward to first kiss Inojin’s lips. He then moved down and pressed a kiss right on Inojin’s nipple on his naked chest. Inojin made a little sexual noise at the sensation and Shikadai smiled. Given the way they most often had sex, the nipples were the highlight of it all for Inojin.

“You are evil,” Inojin said, smiling. He sat up and let his feet slide down the bed. He gathered the toilet bag, consisting everything he needed. He also had a book to read while sitting on the toilet, because doing number two when one is paralysed takes a while. He made his way to the bathroom, washed his hands, sat down on the toilet, reached for plastic gloves and lubricant and began the process.

While Inojin had taken over the bathroom for the morning Shikadai chatted with Shinki.

“So, you seem to stay with him for a long time,” Shinki said while they ate breakfast. Their parents were down in the basement to clean it up and neither of the cousins had been any keen of looking through old furniture. Not that their parents had asked them to join,

“What?” Shikadai asked.

“Inojin,” Shinki said. “You’ve been together for a long time already.”

“Yeah,” Shikadai said. “I have no intention of switching partner. We’ve been through quite a lot, so I guess it has forged us together.” He had to smile at the thought of Inojin. His Inojin.

“Is it difficult to live together with all the extra needs?” Shinki asked. It was not an intrusive ask, and Shikadai recognised the honest curiosity behind Shinki’s words.

“No,” Shikadai said. “We have a routine that works. The kitchen is designed so Inojin can basically make food all on his own without any help, because there is space under the sink and stove. The house has an elevator, and the bathroom is big and has all he needs. He barely needs any help from me. We are just like any other couple.”

Shinki had not yet visited Shikadai’s new apartment. He had Inojin had lived together barely five months, after all.

“So, you store your plates and glasses in the cupboard below the working area, and not on shelves?” Shinki asked.

“Yeah,” Shikadai said. “We have some glasses and plates up on the shelves because no guest ever remembers to check the lower cupboards. I usually take from the higher shelves, but Inojin’s mugs and all that is on the lower ones.”

Shinki seemed deep in thought as he hummed.

“And you?” he asked. “Do you need a lot of help?”

Shikadai sighed.

“Sometimes,” he said. “If I spiral down, I need a lot of help, because I can’t take care of myself then. I stop eating, I stop talking, I can barely think. But that happens not too often. I had a two-year-period where everything was good. So, I don’t want people to think I need to rely on someone else all the time. Of course, peer support and a safety network are particularly important in my journey, so I accept help whenever I get some.” He eyed Shinki carefully. “But please don’t think I can’t manage on my own. My meds work good.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Shinki said. “I think you are great.”

Shikadai looked at him.

“You are strong,” Shinki said. “And have always been. I remember when father told me the news a long time ago that you had an illness and was in the hospital, and I naïvely thought he meant you had a fever or infection or something like that.” He chuckled a bit, which was a rare sight. Shikadai could imagine he was embarrassed at the memory, of having been so wrong about that. But he had been fourteen and hadn’t had any contact with a person who had mental health issues, so Shikadai didn’t blame him for thinking of that. “Then I heard you were ill in your brain and I thought it sounded weird. You were supposed to be a genius, so I wondered how a genius could be ill there.”

Shikadai waited for him to continue. Shinki did pick a needle at a point that made Shikadai nervous and that was his former trait as a genius. He still _was_ quick at thinking when he felt good, but the disorder did sometimes mess to some extent with his abilities to think and he was ashamed of that fact.

“And I learned more about it since then,” Shinki said. “And it made me realise how strong you are. You’ve got all my respect.”

Shikadai couldn’t but smile, when they heard someone make a noise.

“Shikadai!” Inojin yelled from the bathroom. “Come here.”

Shikadai stood up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked back.

“Need help,” Inojin replied and Shikadai turned immediately worried. Inojin usually didn’t need help. Had he fallen and couldn’t get up himself?

Shikadai walked over to the bathroom and grabbed the handle. He leaned a bit against the door.

“Inojin,” he said. “You’ve got the door locked. What do you need help with?”

“Use your shadow,” Inojin almost commanded. “Open the door. I can’t get to it. Too much hassle.”

The most annoying thing about being paralysed were that simple tasks, such as walking from a bathtub to a door, was now a big hassle, demanding energy and time, especially if Inojin had already gotten down into the bathtub. Never underestimate how demanding certain tasks were for a paraplegic.

Shikadai swallowed.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” Inojin said. “Just some stuff. Please?”

“I’m coming,” Shikadai said and took a step back to regard the door. He commanded a shadow to snake inside the bathroom under the closed door and up said door on the inside. It took a few tried to find the lock and to curve the shadow around it. “I’m soon inside.” He grunted under his breath as his shadow braced a harder grip around the lock from the inside and slowly turned it. It was difficult to command the shadow’s movement, as he couldn’t see the lock and had to only use the weak sensation he got from the shadow.

Suddenly the lock snapped, announcing that it was opened and Shikadai opened the door and almost barged inside. He didn’t know what he expected to find inside, and the Inojin he found curled inside a dry bathtub was a grumpy one.

“What’s wrong?” Shikadai asked and Inojin frowned, pointing up towards the ceiling. Shikadai followed his hand and localised the problem. This shower had only one source of water outtake, and that was through the handheld shower head.

The handheld shower, which the previous user had left high up against the shower pipe, far out of reach for someone who sat down in the bathtub. Inojin could turn the water on, but said user had left the head of the shower facing the wall, which meant that even if the water was on, it would only wash against the wall and be utter useless.

“Can’t get it down,” Inojin sighed. “I’ve tried everything. Even standing, but my feet slid, and I fell down again. Hit my elbow pretty hard.”

He sounded devastated. Shikadai blinked at him. Inojin had such a hard time getting up to standing from sitting in a bathtub or on the floor, yet he had tried and almost managed. The tattoos were the most useful when he sat up from already sitting in a chair, not when he sat curled in a bathtub. The tattoos did, after all, only move the skin, and didn’t activate muscles and that meant Inojin’s legs were too weak to get him up standing from that position. His calves, feet and the back of his thighs were still paralysed.

“This porcelain is too slippery, and my legs are too weak,” Inojin complained. “And I… _can’t_ get to it. Can you please give it to me?”

Without a word Shikadai reached up after the showerhead and gave it to his boyfriend. Inojin accepted it. He reached for the tap and put the water on. It came flowing from the showerhead.

“Are you in need of company?” Shikadai asked and Inojin looked up towards him. Shikadai shrugged. “I need to shower as well. Might want to do it at the same time as you.”

Inojin snickered and shuffled himself towards the edge of the bathtub, giving Shikadai space. He undressed himself, and let his boxers slide down in a dramatic way to show himself in all his glory to Inojin.

“You are cruel,” Inojin said, looking at Shikadai’s naked body. “Don’t make me horny. We don’t have time now.”

“What are you talking about?” Shikadai asked, trying to sound innocent and slid down into the bathtub. “What do you mean I make you horny?” He smiled rather devilishly.

Inojin reached forward to pinch Shikadai between his legs and after a little yelp from him they began cleaning themselves, chatting idly. Shikadai was a little bit nervous for the party later that day and Inojin talked to him to calm him down and to give him more confidence.

They loved showering together. It was one of the sweetest moments between them, ever since they were young, when looking at the other one’s naked body was exciting and a tad scary. Back then showering together had been the guide to them calming down in the closeness around the other one, doing something that wasn’t inherently sexual despite the nakedness. Ever since it had been common for them to shower together. Sometimes they had sex too below the streaming water, but most of the time not.

Suddenly, Shinki knocked on the door. Both Inojin and Shikadai fell silent, a mix of curiosity and mortification going through them. Why would Shinki knock on the bathroom door when it was so obvious they were showering?

“Shikadai?” he asked from the outside.

“Yeah?” Shikadai asked, almost ready to leap out of the bathtub.

“Your dog is looking at me,” Shinki said. “What should I do?”

“Is she going to the door when you are looking back at her?” Shikadai asked.

“No.”

“Is she going to her water bowl when you look back at her?”

“No.”

“What is she doing then?”

“She’s just looking at me,” Shinki said. “And waggle her tail. I don’t speak dog language, what does she want?”

Shikadai almost burst out laughing.

“She wants you to give her attention,” he laughed. “Give her a scratch behind her ear. She loves getting scratches.”

“Why would a working dog want scratches?” Shinki asked, but Shikadai could make out the sound of the fabric on his pants creasing when he crouched down. He could also barely hear the sound of claws tapping against the stone floor.

“She is also a family dog,” Shikadai replied through the door. “Give her some belly rubs now. I’m soon finished.” He looked back at Inojin. “He only knows how to take care of cacti, nothing more.”

Inojin shook his head and finished up his cleaning. Shikadai got out of the bathtub and dried himself and just as a gesture of care unwrinkled the towel Inojin had placed on his wheelchair so when he sat down at it, the wrinkles wouldn’t press into him.

“I’ll go and see what Inori wants,” he said as he wrapped the towel around his waist, hair still almost dripping wet. He opened the door carefully to not expose Inojin and entered the kitchen, where Inori was sitting by Shinki’s feet, clearly dissatisfied by the slow service.

Shinki’s party was taking place in the official state halls of the Kazekage building and the adults had been since noon, when they finished cleaning the basement. Now they were helping with the preparations. Temari had been oddly spacey, avoiding talking with Shikadai, but Shikadai didn’t pay much attention to it. She had a lot of business to do for the party to help Gaara.

Shinki on the other hand, didn’t show his nervousness out loud when he got dressed in the traditional party gown. The kids had the house for themselves for the whole day before they were going to the official party hall, and they spent it quite lazily. Shikadai dressed, reluctantly, himself up in the traditional Suna gown to show his status in this village, while Inojin chose to dress in his chunin vest as a sign of what his status was.

He was also nervous, mostly because of all the incoming questions. How come are you here? Whose partner did you say you were? Shikadai’s? Oh, you are one of those people who loves in _that_ kind of way. Why are you in the chair? Why don’t your legs work? Is your life miserable when you can’t walk? Oh, I can’t imagine a life without walking.

Those kinds of questions.

“Inori, do not touch it,” Shinki snapped to the innocent dog when she stroked her body along his gown. “This is expensive silk; I don’t want hair on it.”

“Give her slack,” Shikadai said, while he was sitting in the sofa. “She just wants cuddles.”

“You are going to make it crinkly,” Shinki commented when he saw that the backside of Shikadai’s gown was wrinkled beneath him. “Father is not going to be pleased, not to talk about your mother.”

“Ugh,” Shikadai said and sat up straighter when someone opened the outer door.

On the other side of the door, Yodo and Araya were standing. They had festive clothes on as well, invited to the party as Shinki’s teammates.

“Hello,” Araya said as he walked inside. Yodo followed him, drinking soda from a takeaway cup with a long straw. Her hair was up in a beautiful hairdo. Both teammates scanned the living room and greeted Inori, who wanted to see who the new guests are. They nodded to Inojin.

“Isn’t your entire team here?” Yodo asked Shikadai. “Why isn’t Chocho here?”

“Oh, she stayed at home since this isn’t an event for _me_ per se,” Shikadai said. “I only invited Inojin.”

Araya cocked his head to the side.

“But isn’t it a little bit mean to just invite _one_ team member and not both?”

Shikadai shrugged.

“I mean, Inojin is my boyfriend so that’s why he – “ he began simultaneously as Yodo’s eyes grew bigger and bigger.

“Your boyfriend?” she asked almost breathlessly. “As in love-love?”

Shikadai raised his eyebrows, while he noticed how Shinki pinched the bridge of his nose and Araya scratched his neck. Was this something Yodo talked a lot about?

Inojin took these few seconds of silence as a cue to wheel up to Shikadai and his hand searched for Shikadai’s.

“Yes,” he replied in Shikadai’s stead. “We’ve been together since we were fourteen.”

Yodo whipped towards Shinki’s direction.

“Why didn’t you tell me your cousin is gay?” she asked. It wasn’t accusive, but there was a lingering hurt audible in her voice. As if she felt betrayed.

“Because that is none of your business,” Shinki said. “His sexuality doesn’t have anything to do with him as a shinobi or him as my cousin.”

“But _I_ would have wanted to know,” Yodo continued, voice high-pitched. Inojin had already realised what Yodo meant, while Shikadai just stared at her. “I would have wanted to know there were _someone_ else like me that I knew of. You know how alone I’ve felt, and yet you didn’t mention that your cousin also was like me. It would have helped a great deal.”

Shikadai realised now what was going on. Yodo liked girls. She was just like him. But unlike her, Shikadai had had Inojin as a pillar while he grew up as a gay boy when they had been scared, but despite the fright and insecurity, they had been together, and had grown up together. He hadn’t been alone.

Yodo had been alone.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have anyone to talk with before,” Inojin said and Yodo looked back at him. “If you want, I can gladly talk with you about nothing and all at once.” He looked over at Shikadai, whose shoulders were slumped. He was showing an empathic face. “Shikadai has a friend, Naoki, whom we helped overcome his insecurities when it came to his romantic preferences. He found a boy and they’ve been together for quite some time now.”

Yodo bit her lip, a flustered redness covering her nose and cheeks.

“Thanks,” she said, looking at the floor. “This came as a sudden. I don’t know what to say. Thank you for the offer.” Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears and she rubbed them aggressively. Everyone stared at her, and it was obvious she hated the sudden attention, especially now that she was hurting.

Inojin wheeled a little bit closer to her.

“You are hurting,” he said.

“I have never met another gay person before,” Yodo said. “I haven’t dared to tell anyone. My parents… they say it’s unnatural, that people like us are cursed. That it’s a sickness of my mind.” She looked up at Shinki and Araya. “My team has helped me along the way, but… I’ve just longed for someone like me.”

“It’s not a sickness of the mind,” Inojin said. “There is nothing wrong with you. And I’m sorry your parents don’t accept you as you are.” He looked over at Shikadai. “We were very lucky.”

A shadow flashed over Yodo’s eyes.

“Of course you were lucky,” she hissed. “Like everyone from Konoha.”

“It has nothing to do with that,” Shikadai interrupted. “My mum accepted me immediately. It has nothing to do with Suna or our culture here.” He swallowed. “If you want, we can talk more about it on the after-party today.” He swallowed again, words getting stuck in his throat. “But before nine, because I’ll leave by then.”

They would have to go for the party soon.

“Why so early?” Yodo asked. “What is the point of deciding you want to leave at a certain time before you even know if the party is going to be a good one?”

“Um, I – I,” Shikadai took a deep breath, deciding to fight again the urge to hide who he was. This _was_ a part of his identity, after all.

But the fear of stigma was real.

“I have a mental health problem and it’s more manageable if I go to sleep the same time every day,” he finally blurted out. “I am not insane or anything, it’s just… I don’t know. I’ve had it for a few years already.” He felt his cheek flush dark red.

Yodo looked at him for a while.

“So that was the reason you didn’t come for the schedules mission in the winter,” she realised.

“Probably, yeah,” Shikadai said. “I was on sick leave in the winter. If it’s okay, I’d not like to talk about it right now. I am just who I’ve always been.”

“Of course,” Yodo said.

“So,” Shinki said, standing up. Everyone was already dressed correctly and ready to leave for the party. “I think it’s time for us to leave now.” He looked at Inori. “And you’ll come too?”

“She is a good girl, okay,” Shikadai said.

“Good,” Shinki said and walked towards the door.

There was a party to attend.

Shikadai and Inojin kept themselves to the outskirts of the main party hall, while Temari was walking around and talking with important lords and ladies, whom Shikadai had forgotten the names of. Even Shikamaru found the party too troublesome or boring at some point and nestled down in the corner with cocktail sticks to munch on while half-dreaming about returning home soon.

Kankuro seemed to have a blast, though he was a little more quiet than usual. Shikadai wondered if he just hadn’t enough booze or sake and that was the reason he seemed a little spacey. Temari on the other hand, was way more forward than usual. She usually complained a lot about the council and old geezers, keeping herself mainly to Shikamaru, but now she talked with everyone, jumping from person to person, taking more and more alcohol as the night progressed.

What a drag. A drunk Temari was a force to reckon with.

And at some point, towards the evening one of the council members walked toward Shikadai.

“Young Lord,” he said. “Are we disturbing?”

“No,” Shikadai said, but he didn’t sound certain. The look of the man coming to him was grim and he had just a few moments earlier given Inojin a kiss publicly here in the hall and he began immediately fearing getting scolded for showing the wrong kind of love at this fancy party. “What is wrong?” His hand held hard around Inojin’s and Inojin prepared himself for a monologue of advocacy regarding sexual minorities and their rights.

“There is a document for you to sign,” the council member said. “Nothing worse than that.”

“Oh,” Shikadai said. “Sure. What’s it for?”

“Just your own duties, nothing more,” the old man said. “Follow me, young Lord.”

There was a weird nagging paranoia at the back of Shikadai’s skull when he followed the council member. Suddenly Temari was there behind him, cheeks flushing red and an angry glare in her eyes.

“Where are you taking him?” she asked way more aggressively than was socially acceptable.

“My Princess,” the man said. “Nothing bothersome. Just to sign the document as we talked about weeks ago.”

That didn’t raise any suspicion yet in Shikadai, since it was normal that Temari didn’t share all news from Suna, especially politics with him.

“Okay,” Temari said, shrugged as in an overplayed act and placed her hand on Shikadai’s shoulder. “Come on.”

The old man directed them towards a steep staircase.

“Um,” Inojin said when he saw the stairs. Being carried was the last thing he wanted to draw attention to at this party where he wanted to be a wallflower, but couldn’t since everyone stared at his wheelchair out of the corners of their eyes. “I think I stay here. I’ll find Yodo and talk with her about that thing.”

“Yes,” Shikadai said. “Contact me if you need something. This will probably just take a second.” He tapped his temple to sign a mental connection and Inojin nodded, turned around and swiftly made his way elsewhere.

Shikadai walked up the stairs, somewhat light. He just wanted to get over with this weird signing-the-document-thing.

There was a small meeting room on the other floor. Shikadai had been here a few times before to get missions or to help Shinki with preparations, since this particular room wasn’t used too often and Shinki had claimed it as his own meeting room, despite him having very few meetings.

There was already a document placed on the table.

“Read through, please,” the council member said. “And sign it.”

Shikadai placed his hand by the document and began lazily read through the terms and conditions before he realised what was going on, swallowed and re-read thoroughly.

This was a document, a contract, stating that despite his dual citizenship to Suna and his blood-bond to Gaara and Rasa, he won’t ever be chosen as a Kazekage.

He was aware that this had been an issue when he was small and before Shinki joined the family, when the council members were worried that Shikadai would be the only heir to the Kazekage throne, when he still was only a citizen to Konoha. Since he became a dual citizen at thirteen, the issue flared up a bit, since he now technically had all the rights to inherit the throne if he wanted.

The discussion about his chances to become Kazekage had not been talked about for a long time, and Shikadai knew that Shinki was the obvious choice. He didn’t even _want_ to be Kazekage, it was just a thing that was possible, and he liked the mind game is gave him to imagine what it would be like.

And yet, he had no idea it would sting so much when reading the contract, that the words would clench his heart and steal his breath.

The contract even said the reason. The reason wasn’t his dual citizenship, nor that his birthplace was Konoha. It wasn’t even his sexuality, which was the first thing that came to mind.

The reason was his mental instability, his greatest weakness and his biggest insecurity.

“… why…?” he just said after reading through. “I… I’ve fought so hard to be well again. And I feel better now. And Shinki wants to be Kazekage… I would just give it to him.”

_This contract states the disinheriting of Nara Shikadai of the Sand._

He felt Temari’s hand on his shoulder.

“Why did you do this?” Shikadai asked.

“I’m sorry,” Temari said.

“I’ve tried, mum,” Shikadai repeated, anxiety skyrocketing once again. “I’m trying to be healthy again.”

Temari took his shoulders harder and turned him to face her. Now Shikadai noticed the tears in her eyes and that sight alone shocked him. Temari never cried. He hadn’t seen the tears she had spilled when he was sick, all times, as Temari had skilfully hid them to not give him bad conscious, to not make him feel like a burden. This was new for him.

“Shikadai, please forgive me,” she said, and her fingers dug into Shikadai’s shoulders. “This is not to stigmatise you and not to discriminate you. You must understand, honey, I love you so much, Shikadai. I love you, my only child, my baby, my fawn.”

Shikadai stared at her.

“What is going on?” he whined. Temari bit her lower lip and looked over at the councilman.

“Go downstairs and call for Shikamaru,” she said. “And get Inojin too. I don’t care how you get him up here but get him here.”

Shikadai fell into a trance, the trance of anxiety, as he sat down on a chair in the wait for Inojin and Shikamaru. Inori by his side was the only reason a panic attack was being unleashed.

When both were there, Inojin by Shikadai’s side, holding his hand, and Shikamaru beside his wife, Temari took a deep breath.

“Forgive me,” she repeated.

And she told him everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, thanks to Vee, a sapphic Yodo for you all! :) 
> 
> And now Shikadai knows everything.... What will happen next? Let me know what you think!


	8. Inojin in Suna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, before you'll get traumatic flashbacks from the Inojin-centric chapter from To dance above the Stars, this won't be too angsty! Sunshine boi is safe!

The company was quiet the following day. Shikadai sat in the couch, Inori nestled to his side, drinking steaming coffee out of his mug. He had that morning told Inojin that he wasn’t in mood for talking, but at least tried to ensure that he wasn’t spiralling down in an attempt of self-isolation. He claimed that he wasn’t going to talk because he needed to think. He needed to be alone with himself.

Inojin respected that. He imagined Shikadai had a lot of feelings to puzzle through and that the voice in his head had one or two things to say to him in this moment. He wondered if Shikadai replied to Hama, the voice inside his head. Sometimes Inojin could see Shikadai’s lips move, as if he articulated his thoughts but didn’t give them sound.

Shikadai had now stared out in nothingness for quite some time, seemingly detached from this world and sunk into his own, but his cup moved to and from his lips every now and then, telling the rest of the company that he hadn’t fallen too much into a trance where he would sit and stare forever and forget he even had coffee. He was still present, albeit sad and in the need of thinking.

Inojin wondered if Shikadai was thinking at all, or if he just existed.

Their train would leave late that evening, and they would spend almost the entire night in the train. Shikadai liked the night train, he loved leaning against the window and feel the little vibration from the train’s movement in his skull and slowly fall asleep.

The rest of the family were aware of Shikadai’s need to be alone, so they didn’t ask him questions other than offering emphatic glances. Instead, Shinki walked up to Inojin.

“Want to go out a while?” he asked, looking at Shikadai. “I can show you around a bit.”

Inojin was surprised at the suggestion. Shinki wasn’t the type to open up to people with open arms, but he saw that Shinki honestly tried to be a good host. It had been his party, after all, and his village and _his_ family, and now everything felt ruined. He was seemingly embarrassed by the fact that Inojin technically was here on everyone else’s terms, that he couldn’t leave if he wanted to. The road to the train station wasn’t completely accessible.

“Sure,” Inojin said, suddenly feeling bold to show himself out there on Suna’s paved streets. He needed to show that people like him exist and can live happily. Needed to show himself he can be happy and explore new places despite him being in a wheelchair.

He and Shinki prepared themselves for departure.

“I’m going out a bit, sweetie,” Inojin said and pressed a kiss to Shikadai’s cheek. Shikadai turned to look at Inojin for the first time in many minutes.

“Okay,” he replied feebly, voice barely audible. He forced a smile. “Have fun. I’m sorry I won’t come with you.”

“Don’t feel sorry,” Inojin said. “Rest a bit. Yesterday was tough.”

Shikadai just nodded back at Inojin, closing his eyes and clutching Inori’s fur.

“I love you, never forget that,” Inojin silently said and tugged his fingers through Shikadai’s loose hair.

“Thank you,” Shikadai replied.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Inojin said. “It’s imbedded in me. No needs to wonder how I can love you, because that is the easiest thing in the world. Four years and counting.”

That coaxed another little smile from Shikadai, a genuine one, but his eyes remained closed. Inojin could see how his eyes moved beneath the eyelids, hinting that he was thinking – or struggling to think – hard.

“I’ll be alright,” he said, finally opening his eyes again. “Go and have fun. I think I’ll get the guitar. Makes my head clearer. Gonna play my favourite song.”

Inojin smiled at him and placed another kiss on his lips. Inojin trusted in Shikadai’s words. Shikamaru and Temari were at home, after all, and they knew how to react if Shikadai began feeling worse. Everyone kept their fingers crossed that they’d manage by a hair a new decline in his well-being. Everyone knew that his paranoia could break free if he began looking for spies.

“And I think I’ll call Naoki,” Shikadai continued, sounding more secure, as if he tried the ‘fake it ‘til you make it’-tactic. “I’ll ask him some stuff. We haven’t talked in a while. I hope he is doing well.”

Naoki was a friend Shikadai had gained from the psych ward during the longest hospitalisation he had had. Naoki suffered from the same illness as Shikadai and to have that peer support from someone who knew exactly what it was like was crucial for him to accept that he had to live his life with some limitations. He had been a great support for Shikadai, and Shikadai had been a great support for him.

“I hope so, too,” Inojin said. “Tell him I said hi.”

Shikadai nodded, going back to closing his eyes. Inojin took that as a cue to leave. He wheeled towards the hall, where Shinki already waited for him.

“I can get down myself,” Inojin said as he and Shinki stood by the staircase to get down to ground level. “You just have to bring the chair down.” He stood up on wobbly legs and sat down on the top step. “Hold the frame, don’t touch the wheels.”

Shinki seemed almost intimidated by the task to carry Inojin’s wheelchair down but he held carefully around the frame – the strongest part that held the chair together, and walked down the stairs, and Inojin shuffled down on his butt. It was rather easy with the tattoos, as his legs moved independently down each step, instead of him having to manually place each leg down for each step.

“So, where do you want to go?” Shinki asked when Inojin had accustomed himself in his chair again out on the street.

“I don’t know, you live here, so you tell me,” Inojin said.

“When were you the last time in Suna?”

“When Shikadai turned fifteen,” Inojin said. “That’s a long time ago. We surprised him, Chocho and I.”

“Ah, I remember,” Shinki said. “Before your injury. Hm. I could bring you over to Uncle’s workshop. It’s quite the sight for someone who is not used to puppetry.”

“Oh. Sure.” That wasn’t the first thing on Inojin’s potential sightseeing-in-Suna-list, but he wasn’t going to say that to Shinki. Shinki was doing an effort in making Inojin’s last day in Suna something that was anything else than sitting inside an apartment because Shikadai had a bad day. He wanted to be a good host, and for that Inojin thanked him. Thanked him for even remembering him, for thinking that, despite how he moved around, it was worth asking him out on a stroll around Suna.

“If you were wearing shorts, you’d burn your knees and thighs pretty badly in the sun,” Shinki said, looking down at Inojin’s legs.

“Which is why I’m wearing trousers,” Inojin said as he followed Shinki’s steps. Shinki was as bad at small talk as Shikadai had told him. He looked down, avoiding a hole in the road. The pavement wasn’t perfect, but the effort was all Inojin needed. The effort for people like him.

“Kankuro’s workshop is accessible,” Shinki suddenly said. “They come inside with wagons sometimes, so there are no stairs.”

Inojin nodded and steered along the path. He was being stared at. People stopped whatever they were doing to stare at him, and he knew it. At a particular crowded place they had to wait a little bit until they could move forward, because Inojin couldn’t just ram into people the same way a walking person could slide through a crowd. Kankuro’s workshop was just around the corner, and Inojin felt already exhausted.

Suddenly a woman turned around and noticed he was there. She looked down at him with disgust in her eyes.

“It’s bad for your back if you sit down all the time,” she sneered, as if Inojin had asked advice how to live his life from this complete stranger. “Epitome of laziness to use a wheeling chair instead of walking.”

Inojin couldn’t but stare back at her. Did she just imply he was _lazy_ because he was using a wheelchair instead?

“What?” was the only thing that he in this moment managed to say.

“You will realise that you’ll feel much better if you walk more,” the woman continued.

Inojin finally regained his ability to talk.

“If you think I use this for fun then I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am in fact fucking paralysed and I can’t walk. Now move aside or I will ram into your legs.”

Shinki noticed now what was going on.

“Are you insulting the guest of the Kazekage?” he asked coldly of the woman. Now she noticed the person Inojin was accompanying was the Prince and she turned bright red in her face.

“No, my Lord,” she said and hurried away.

Inojin’s hands were almost shaking of anger. The nerves to call him lazy, as if he had chosen this himself.

“Forgive my people’s ignorance,” Shinki said. “We are working on changing their knowledge.”

Inojin just nodded to him, yearning to reach the workshop as soon as possible.

Kankuro’s workshop was nothing less than a sight. Puppets _everywhere,_ along the ceiling, covering tables and littering the floor. Inojin had to looked where he steered to not run over puppet arms, or even worse, a nail sharp enough to give him a flat tyre.

“Well, hello,” Kankuro said. He had gone down to the workshop an hour or so ago to work on something that was so important that a hangover wasn’t standing in the way, but Inojin could guess that Kankuro couldn’t bare the sight of Shikadai being in such depressive state and he had escaped the house to sooth his guilt. “Came to look at my perfect and skilled art of creating puppets?”

He was joking, of course, but his voice sounded empty.

“Shinki wanted to show your workshop,” Inojin said, eyeing the various sizes of screwdrivers Kankuro had lined up against a magnetic wall. “Do you know how to use those?”

The question might sound silly, but Inojin was tired from the night he had held Shikadai.

Kankuro eyed him carefully.

“Want to check if you got sand in the bolts?”

Inojin nodded, happy that he was understood. He transferred over to a bench and let Kankuro take over his chair. Inojin could do it himself too, but he felt grateful that Kankuro did it. Shinki seemed content by giving Inojin something to do and he kept himself busy with reading some scrolls.

“The wheels are removable,” Inojin said. “You just take there and they – yeah, just like that.”

Kankuro went through the bolts of the wheelchair, cleaning them up from sand and Inojin took his time to look at everything inside the workshop. His gaze finally fell on the three of Kankuro’s summoning scrolls, which he had left open, probably to tweak the seals and check they still were working flawlessly, on the table.

Inojin looked at the summoning scrolls for a while. He had never seen Kankuro in battle, but Shikadai had given a thorough rundown of his uncle’s repertoire when it came to jutsu and weapons, so he knew how it worked. He kept three highly complex puppets stored inside the scrolls, ready to whip them out when needed.

Inojin furrowed his brows.

“Do the puppets ever break inside the seals?” he asked.

Kankuro looked up from his craft.

“Very rarely,” he said. “It has happened a few times in twenty years. My seals are strong.”

“I use sealing scrolls sometimes,” Inojin said. “If I have to transport the chair and can’t carry it like that, then I put it in a sealing scroll.” He looked at the wheel in Kankuro’s hand. “I always worry about breaking it. Always. Even if it was Mum or Dad or even Shikadai’s parents who do the seals in the sealing scroll, the risk of breaking is there. And I wonder what you use to make your seals so strong that they can keep a delicate and complex object inside without breaking it, having some part of it lost in the matrices when transferring?”

Kankuro smiled to Inojin.

“There are multiple different sealing techniques,” he said. “Some are stronger than others, even if they to the untrained eye seem to be exactly the same. There might always be a technique where the sequences inside the seals are more complex, more tied up in each other, which makes the matrix stronger. Some people draw the sign or kanji before the sealing, some do it at the same time as they seal and perform the fuuinjutsu. Some casters have weaker powers, some caster have greater ones.”

He furrowed his brows.

“The curse in your tongue you had a few years ago was a strong seal,” he said. Inojin bit together his teeth at the mention of the cursed seal he had had in his tongue during the time of his accident. “That seal seemed to the fellow shinobi almost like a black cut, but those who knows something about sealing knows how strong the fuuinjutsu in that is. If the sealer is skilled, even the simplest seal turns strong.” He tipped his head to the side, and his hood almost fell off his head. “Do you want me to make you some strong sealing scrolls?”

Inojin blushed at the kindness. Here he was a guest in Suna and now Kankuro was cleaning his chair for him and offered himself to create stronger scrolls for him.

“Thank you,” he said and bowed lightly to show his gratitude. “How much does this cost?”

“You don’t have to pay anything,” Kankuro said. “You… you have saved Shikadai. So, I am forever in debt to you. You have saved my beloved nephew.”

Inojin wanted almost to sigh that he was more often than not the reason for Shikadai’s breakdowns, but chose to not say anything. He watched Kankuro work during silence while his mind was working hard. He stared at the sealing scrolls for Kankuro’s puppets, looked up at the carpentry that was Kankuro’s weapons.

Then he began thinking about sealing in general. How a curse so strong it paralysed the entire body had been sealed in his and his father’s tongues and then removed through the deaths of the sealers. How powerful, gigantic Tailed Beasts could be stored inside babies and remain imprisoned through a seal.

Kankuro was almost finished when Inojin, now sitting in his own chair again, looked up at him.

“Do you…” he had to swallow before daring to look up at Kankuro again. “Do you know how to seal items inside a human body?”

Kankuro looked at Inojin for a long time.

“I do.”

Shikadai hadn’t moved when Inojin, Shinki and Kankuro came back, and his eyes were red, but his mouth smiled when Inojin came up. He had been carried by Kankuro up the stairs, the first time someone who wasn’t Shikadai or Sai had carried him in a very long time.

“Hey, sweetie,” Shikadai said and placed the guitar away from his lap.

“How are you?” Inojin asked.

“Tired,” Shikadai said. “My brain feels all fried up and my eyes are burning. But I’ve played some guitar and I called Naoki and Inori has been here. I feel better now.”

He walked up to Inojin and kissed him.

Then he took a deep breath, hands shaking slightly as they gripped Inojin’s and he looked over at Temari, who had him under her guarding eyes from where she sat at the dinner table. She straightened her back, worry shining in her eyes.

“Mum,” he said, voice trembling. He had thought about this the whole day. It had haunted his mind and now he finally came to the conclusion, after going through a fast experience of the five stages of grief. Grief over his own situation.

There had been denial. _No. No, my mum didn’t give me this illness, this was just a mistake._

There had been anger. _Why did this happen to me out of all people?_

There had been bargaining. _If I never get a biological child, I’ll never make someone else suffer the same way._

There had been depression. _Whatever I do, I’m doomed to suffer._

And finally, there had been acceptance.

“I’ve been thinking and… it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you.” He barely finished the line before Temari came rushing from the table and hugged him. He was a little bit taller than Temari by now. She hugged him so hard, pressing her cheek against his, hiding her face against his hair as tears of relief pressed out of the corners of her eyes. “Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t know. And you’ve helped me so much so far, and you’ll always help me get well again.”

He had mulled over this for hours. His head was groggy because he had taken the sleep medicine too late after the routine to go home at nine at burned up into panic attacks and scrambled thoughts and the inability to verbalise himself after the shock that had been delivered to him. He had woken up with a headache. He had spent the entire day organising thoughts and finally had come to the conclusion.

He wasn’t angry at Temari.

“I’ll always help you,” Temari said. She didn’t repeat her sorry. She had asked for forgiveness already and now her words were all empty. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you. As you are.”

Shikadai forced himself to smile.

“I feel better now,” he said again. “And I’m a little bit hungry. Didn’t eat breakfast.”

“We’ll make dinner for you,” Temari said. “Go watch tv or something until we’re done.”

She smiled at her son when he and Inojin nestled down in the sofa, so close as closeness went. Inojin traced patterns on Shikadai’s chest and Shikadai had his head leaning against Inojin’s.

He seemed happy.

After dinner Temari went down to the basement, to all the diaries and journals her father had left them, the detailed explanations, his deepest wishes. Photographs. Love letters. Her own birth certificate.

She had sealing scrolls with her, prepared to store everything within them to secure them, making sure no one will ever steal them. The threat was very real, and she would wish nothing but hell upon the person who would dare to break into the storage to steal the proof that Karura had been ill and the proof Shikadai was diagnosed as well.

One book on the shelf caught her eye.

_Disorders and genetics_

She opened the book at the place someone had left a bookmark. The correct place. The rest of the book was unread.

_Little is known about whether the child of a mother living with psychosis inherits the gene for the illness. The science of genetics cannot yet disclose which chromosome, nor which gene. The only thing known is that the disorder may pass on to the child. The only study made by Dr. Kamime at the Asylum of Grass Country, found that the risks for the child of developing the disorder are around 10%. Twenty psychotic mothers and twenty-three children were part of the study, which ended when the youngest of the children had turned 25 years old._

Temari couldn’t believe it. She and her siblings had all belonged to the ninety percent, the children not developing the disorder, even thought they might carry the gene. Shikadai had belonged to the ten percent. Maybe the risk was even smaller when the ill person had been Shikadai’s grandmother and not mother.

Oh, how unfair life was.

She stuffed all the binders into sealing scrolls, counting them, making sure they all were safe. She decided to take them with her to Konoha. That way the Nameless One was probably out of chance to get their filthy paws on the documents.

Then she felt someone else’s presence – the presence of an unknown human.

She whipped around, hand already on the handle of her fan, and stared up towards the staircase leading out of the basement and saw a pair of blue-green eyes that were not Shikadai nor Shinki’s, stare back at her before disappearing in a shunshin flash.

“No!” Temari yelled. Someone had been here. Someone had stalked her, lurking in the darkness of the staircase, looking at her. Someone had seen her retrieve the important documents.

She didn’t know if the person that had been stalked her still could hear her.

“You’ll never get him!” Temari screamed up the staircase. “I will kill you with my bare fucking hands if I have to, but you will never get him.”

Silence replied to her.

There was no one there.

Temari shuffled down all her sealing scrolls into another scroll, with a greater seal and more complex sequence and interlocks, making the scroll closed for anyone but her and the others who new the quirks inside the sequences, who knew where to reach the chakra inside the depths of the matrix.

She had to get Shikadai out of Suna now.

Both Temari and Shikamaru were prepared for the worst, but to their surprise the train ride to Konoha was just as eventless as the train ride to Suna.

Shikadai and Inojin played cards, or Shikadai napped and Inojin painted the landscape in a paint notebook he had with him to keep himself busy, or Inori was demanding attention of her beloved owners.

Shikadai and Inojin went straight to their own apartment after they arrived in Konoha, after Shikadai had promised to call them later and tell them how he felt.

When both boys were out of earshot Temari told Shikamaru her plans.

“I’ll return to Suna in a week or two and find that Nameless One,” she said. “And when I do, I will kill them. Don’t try to stop me.”

Shikamaru hadn’t anything to say back.

Chocho was beaming like a sun when the boys met her the following day. Shikadai had asked Inojin to not say anything about the daunting news from Suna, so they both pretended to be fine.

“I passed the test!” Chocho yelled. “I passed the jonin test! That was the final step in me becoming a jonin. It’s going to be so awesome; we have the small ceremony tomorrow and I’ll receive the diploma and it’ll be registered everywhere!”

“You made it?” Inojin let out, reaching his arms up to be able to hug her. “That’s my Chubs.”

“Hah ha,” Chocho said, smacking him into his back in a friendly teasing way when they hugged.

“Was the test difficult?” Shikadai asked after hugging her as well. He put his hands deep down in his pockets in a leisurely way, and kept his posture chill. He had recovered from the bad day yesterday, something that would have been a lot harder even a year ago, and this was a very solid proof that cognitive therapy does help. He could handle his surroundings much better now than before.

“There were sixty questions and we had only one hour to answer, leaving us to have roughly one minute to answer each question,” Chocho said. “And wrong answer gave minus point.”

“So, safe to say Boruto failed?” Inojin asked.

“Yes, he failed,” Chocho said. “Sarada, Mitsuki and I passed. I passed with minimum required points, though…”

“Hey, that doesn’t matter,” Shikadai said. “A pass is a pass, no matter if you had all sixty correct or just above the bar. You should be proud of yourself.” He raised his chin a bit, looking up at the sun above them. “It would be fun to try that test. Just to see if I’d make it.”

“Of course you’d make it, you’re a Nara,” Chocho laughed.

Shikadai pinched his lips together.

“You are forgiven, Chubs, but I’d appreciate if you didn’t assess me based on what family I come from,” he said carefully. That had been a thought that had disturbed him for years, the fact that he was judged based on who his parents were. He had to be a genius because Shikamaru was his father, he must be fierce like his mother because she was a Suna-nin. The thought of having expectations based on his parents had felt like a burden for a while and only crushed his self-esteem when he couldn’t meet those expectations anymore due to his diagnosis.

Everyone would maybe think he’d become jonin in the blink of an eye, because he was smart like his father and fierce like his mother, but he will never become jonin, because he would never get the missions required to his portfolio to apply for the position.

He would die a chunin. Not that it mattered, because his own happiness mattered more than a status.

“I’m sorry,” Chocho immediately said. She knew he became uncomfortable by the comparison to his parents, yet the sentence had slipped out of her so easily. “Sorry. I just meant that _you_ as Shikadai are smart enough to pass the test.”

Shikadai scratched his neck.

“Congratulations again,” he said.

“You want to come out for a beer?” Chocho asked. “To celebrate me? Mitsuki is also coming, he should be here in just a moment.”

“Sure,” Inojin said and Shikadai nodded.

They just wanted Chocho to feel happy, to celebrate her new status as a ninja. And she deserved to feel happy and special.

When Mitsuki came over to the bar Chocho had chosen – one of the few accessible bars in Konoha – he slid behind her and snaked an arm around her waist. He kissed her temple from behind and Chocho beamed of happiness when she was smothered in kisses.

“Congratulations on becoming jonin,” Shikadai said to Mitsuki when he looked up again.

Mitsuki and Chocho as a couple was a unique sight, to say the least, because none of them cared about what other might think about them showing public affection. Inojin loved affection in public and Shikadai had gotten used to it after years of _Can I kiss you?-_ s, but Chocho and Mitsuki didn’t even have a buffer period. It had been wet smooches right from the beginning under the audience’s eye.

Mitsuki didn’t understand why it was weird so tongue kiss in public and Chocho was raving around in the attention they got from it.

“Thank you,” Mitsuki said. “I thought for a second I wouldn’t make it, but I passed. Too bad Boruto didn’t make the cut, though… I wonder if someone should stay chunin to make him feel better.”

“No, Mitsuki, you are not resigning you position just because you made the cut and Boruto didn’t,” Chocho snarled. “We’ve talked about this before. Besides,” she waved her arm in Inojin and Shikadai’s direction, “here are two fine shinobi who are chunin, so Boruto don’t have to feel alone.”

“But they are – “ Mitsuki began before quickly shutting himself up. So, he had learned some social cues over the years, after all. Chocho stared at him, her eyes begging him to not say whatever he was going to.

“It’s okay,” Inojin said. “I want to hear what Mitsuki was thinking.”

Mitsuki stared blankly at Inojin for a second, worried about what was socially correct in this situation.

“I don’t know,” he just said.

“I won’t get offended,” Inojin said. “I just want to know whatever you were going to say.”

Mitsuki looked at Chocho, who nodded once to him. The boys could handle it now that they were asking. And their life situation wasn’t foreign for them in the slightest.

“You are different,” Mitsuki finally said, finding a new courage to speak out his true intentions. “We can’t compare with you anymore, because that would be unfair.”

Well, that hurt a little bit.

Inojin forced a smile.

“Keep going,” he said.

Mitsuki writhed uncomfortably, taking a sip of his booze to win time.

“I don’t know,” he said again. “I don’t think poorly of you at all, not at all. I just think there is a significant difference between us now. We were all trained to be shinobi, but the fact remains that you can’t be the same kind of shinobi you once aspired to be.”

“Fair enough,” Inojin said and raised his own glass to his mouth. “I’m not mad you or anything. I’m glad you were honest.”

Mitsuki smiled thinly to Inojin and hid himself behind Chocho in an attempt to put attention away from him. It can’t have felt good to be that honest, but Inojin had asked him and he wasn’t going to just keep quiet.

Chocho quickly tried to steer the conversation to a less tense nature and all four felt more comfortable with the situation. Shikadai was mostly quiet, just kept his hand stroking Inojin’s arms or occasionally letting himself play with Inojin’s long ponytail, because he was obsessed with Inojin’s beautiful hair and not the slightest ashamed of it.

All of a sudden Inojin turned over to Chocho, smiling at her.

“Okay, what do you want?” Chocho asked, immediately recognising the cheeky smile of her teammate. She knew Inojin only smiled like that when he wanted something.

“How has your tattooing worked out?” Inojin asked.

Chocho had during the latest year slowly learned tattooing, because it was common for Kumors to be able to tattoo themselves and Karui had some rather wonky and shaky butterflies tattooed over her foot blades when Chocho had practised. Chocho had gotten a few tattoos herself, the first one at age sixteen being a traditional Kumor tattoo, which was supposed to state her powers.

She had the kanji for ‘Thunder Butterfly’ tattooed on her forearm, done by Karui, and a little butterfly on the inside of her ankle.

“It’s going okay,” Chocho said. “Why? Do you want _more_ tattoos?”

“In fact, yes,” Inojin said. “I want you to tattoo seals on my back.”

Chocho stared at him.

“Are you serious?”

“I am,” Inojin said. “My plan is not really finalised yet. I need to invite Shikadai’s uncle Kankuro here to finalise the seals after they are tattooed on me, and I will have to perfect the jutsu – “

“What are you going to seal inside you?” Chocho asked. Shikadai only smiled proudly at Inojin, hinting that he already knew of Inojin’s plan.

“I will probably never walk, and my wheelchair can’t bring me everywhere either,” Inojin said, placing a hand on his knee which felt none of the touch it was given. “I can make Ink Birds, but it is a freaking struggle to get on and off a bird with my limits. So, if I can’t walk, I will lean how to fly instead.” He looked at Chocho. “I will seal permanent Ink Wings inside my back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Temari will go after The Nameless One, Chocho is jonin and Inojin will seal wings into his back! Lots of stuff happening :D What will happens next after this?


	9. Wings of Ink and Oil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little fluff once again!

Inojin’s plans turned out to involve a greater amount of people than he at first imagined. At first, he spent a few days inside the studio on the second floor of his parents’ house. Sai was with him, having carried him up to the second floor to avoid straining Inojin’s shoulders all too much. They weren’t built to carry a close to dead weighted human and needed rest so they could keep being healthy for all of Inojin’s life, so being carried was the better choice here. Ino was also there, curious to see Inojin’s idea.

Sai looked at him with a concerned, but concentrated gaze when Inojin explained to them what he was aiming for.

“Oil paint?” Sai repeated.

“It’s more durable,” Inojin said, looking down at the empty scroll. This scroll was the biggest Sai owned; a scroll used for big tigers to be drawn on. Beside Inojin were many sketches of his wings. The sketches were littered with mathematical formulas and notes of physics Shikadai had done, helping him to figure out the wingspan the wings needed to keep him flying and the strength they needed to have.

Inojin didn’t want to meet Sai’s eyes.

“If an Ink Bird would get hit by a kunai, or struck by a lightning jutsu, or basically anything, the risk of it breaking apart is too big,” he said. “And if I would fall – if – if my wings would break and I’d fall, I’d probably die.” He knew that Ino stared at him. He didn’t want to meet her eyes either. “My… experience with Oil paint is that it’s so sticky weapons are quite useless against it. If one would stick a kunai into an Oil paint Beast, it’d get stuck.” He regarded his sketched once more, gaining time. “My wings can’t be made of Ink. They have to be made of Oil.”

It hurt a little bit to admit it, to admit to wanting to use a technique and a weapon that had almost destroyed his family. He hadn’t a few years ago ever imagined to wanting to use the same technique his cousin and aunt had used.

“We need to buy more,” Sai said, glancing over at the sketch of the wings. “I don’t have enough Oils for entire wings right now.”

“Are you serious?” Ino asked of Sai. He looked up at her, gaze puzzled.

“Yes,” he said.

“Darling, think of what you are agreeing upon,” Ino continued, painfully aware of the betrayed look Inojin had on his face. “This is too dangerous – “

“I am here,” Inojin said. “Don’t be mad at Dad, be mad at me if you need to yell at someone.”

“Inojin, my love,” Ino began. “Think of what you are attempting. Wings in your back! This is not the way. What if this fails. What if you fall again from the sky? Wasn’t breaking your back once enough?”

Darkness clouded Inojin’s eyes.

“Shut up,” he said, biting his teeth together. Ino collected herself, calming her voice.

“Inojin, I just want you to be safe – “

“And I want Shikadai to be safe!” Inojin snarled. “I _can’t_ fight if I can’t move. And there might be someone out there wanting to kill him. I need to be ready, to fight for him, like he has fought for me so many times already. And we’ve talked. This is the best way.” He closed his fists. “He has been prepared to sacrifice himself for me. What boyfriend am I if I am not ready to do the same for him? And my disability shouldn’t hold me back. And neither should you.”

Ino understood then and there that fighting against her son would go nowhere. Inojin had grown up so much, from the boy who was once ashamed and unsure of his own abilities to the man ready to go trough immense pain of being sealed for fighting for his love.

She let him get his way. She didn’t want to go into details with him how much his fate and disability had affected her and Sai and that they were shaking with fear for him.

“I think I need to mix the Ink and Oil,” Inojin said when Ino had been quiet long enough. “Make the inner parts, the substance of the wings Ink and then the outer shell of oil to strengthen it. And then make what would be the bones of Oil.”

Sai took the sketch and scrutinized it.

“So, you think you can seal the wings into your shoulders while you’re not using them,” he said. “But when you _are_ using them, what keeps them attached to your body? You can’t keep your entire body up by just connecting the wings to your skin, it would rip your skin off. I admire your plan, Inojin, but you can’t – “

“I’ll attach them to by shoulder blades,” Inojin said. “Kankuro said he’d know how, how to basically weld the Ink together with the blades. If he’s skilled enough, the seal should make the Ink pull back from my shoulder blades when they are sealed inside me and then re-attach when I choose to use them.”

“That is ambitious,” Sai said slowly. “When do you plan to use your wings? Only when Shikadai’s life is on the line?”

His joke was not appreciated.

“I have no problems with using the chair out on a daily basis,” Inojin said, feeling down his lame leg. “I’m okay with that. But I’d like to have the option to be able to get out in the wilderness, and that would my wings give me. I know I can’t use them inside the town, but if Shikadai one day would ask if I wanted to hike out in the desert like he once have said he wanted to do with me, a wish that is currently impossible to perform, I could say yes.”

Sai didn’t say anything, only nodded.

“You don’t know,” Inojin finally said. “No one who hasn’t gone through this knows.”

“I know,” Sai said. “But I have given you a promise, do you remember?”

Inojin remembered one night at the hospital, a few days after his accident. Or maybe it had already been a week. He had not gotten to see Shikadai yet at that point, at least. That evening Sai had sat with Inojin for hours, drawing with him. At some point he had looked up from the detailed sketch of some flowers Chocho had brought to Inojin as a ‘get well’-present and saw his son stare out into nothingness, tears streaming down his face.

“It hurts,” Inojin had said. “In my back.”

“It’s the wound from the surgery,” Sai had replied. “Do you need pain killers?”

“I need my legs back,” Inojin had whimpered and smacked a hand down on his thigh, frustrated and devastated by the lack of feeling. He hit the place in his thigh where he had impaired feeling – where his hand felt like a tingle of pins and needles, and that new, weird sensation made him even more angry.

Sai had grabbed Inojin’s hand and held hard.

“Let me go,” Inojin had snarled and tried to snatch his hand back, but Sai didn’t let the hand slip out of his grip.

“Inojin,” he had said and Inojin had looked up in his eyes, defiance and a broken heart visible inside his gaze. “I can’t give your legs back to you, but I swear, I will do anything to make your life easier. Trust in me. I can’t turn time back, but I will do everything in my power to make this up for you.”

Inojin had just stared out the window, at the final cherry trees in bloom. He had not responded at first, and later whispered, “Leave me alone.”

Sai had left him.

Inojin was now a little embarrassed by how he had reacted, but those weeks before he was allowed to see Shikadai had been the hardest of his life; his entire way of living being changed in an instant and his greatest love hospitalised and Inojin didn’t even know how he was other than ‘he is getting better’.

“I remember that,” Inojin said. “And I’m happy for everything you’ve done for me so far.”

“I will help you,” Sai said with such confidence in his voice it even transferred over to Ino. “Give me a few days and I’ll see if I can manipulate and create a new formula, a new Ink for you. Ink mixed with Oil.”

Inojin smiled to him.

“Thank you.”

Shikadai put down the phone into its place against and shot a soft smile to his boyfriend.

“You really know how to wrap people around your little finger,” he said after he had walked up to him and reached down to gently kiss Inojin, who was in the process of chopping onions for their dinner that night. “Kankuro has studied all kinds of books of complicated sealing theories just for you. He thinks he has a good technique to use on you when you want to proceed your plan.”

“Really?” Inojin looked up from the cutting board. The onions were done and he moved them over to the frying pan.

“He is coming over to Konoha in three days,” Shikadai said. “He said he had some business to talk with mum, some family-stuff, I guess.” He placed his hand on top of Inojin’s hand, leaning from behind over Inojin’s shoulder so their faces were side by side, touching, and stirred the onions with Inojin. “He said he can seal your back when he comes.”

Inojin smiled at the thought.

“Finally,” he said. This wish had been at the back of his head for months already. The idea to just _move around_ and not be hindered by rocks or a steep place or a ditch or basically anything, felt like liberation. He would never be able to use his legs, but if he adapted his skills, he might be able to be a little more independent again.

“And what do you think Chocho will think about your idea?” Shikadai asked as he put the meat into the frying pan. “She was pretty horrified when you asked her if she wanted to tattoo the seals.”

“She rejects the idea of hurting me,” Inojin chuckled. “You should have heard her – “

“I did hear her, I was there,” Shikadai said and threw a meat piece to Inori.

“’Tattoos on your shoulders, Inojin, this isn’t like being paralysed’,” Inojin said, imitating word for word what Chocho had said. “Like, no shit, I know I can feel stuff on my shoulders, it’s not like I am reminded every day that I _can’t_ feel below my waist. And just because I was ‘lucky’ that I didn’t feel whatever pain it would be to be tattooed on the feet, doesn’t mean I don’t want to feel the real deal with the tattoo gun.”

“But you felt the backlines that went over your level of injury,” Shikadai pointed out.

“But that was like three centimetres,” Inojin said. “I had barely time to feel the needle.”

“Sure thing, masochist,” Shikadai said and Inojin slapped him on his butt so hard the smacking sound echoed in their living room and Inori barked once as the sharp sound and both boys turned into laughing messes.

Inojin loved hearing Shikadai’s laugh. He was still able to laugh, to find happiness.

That might be the greatest treasure in the world.

When Kankuro arrived, after the welcome-dinner and the traditional shogi game which Kankuro lost miserably against Shikadai and later against Shikamaru, it was time.

They were all collected in the Nara household’s living room, as their space was bigger than in the Yamanaka’s living room. The need for space was real, because the entire collection of Ino-Shika-Cho were there.

Karui was there to supervise Chocho’s tattooing, and Choji was there to prepare snacks for the entire company. Someone needed to have the kitchen duty, and Choji had volunteered to that position with a great smile on him face.

Both Ino and Sai were there, of obvious reasons, since they wanted to know how their baby was doing during this apparently painful process. And of course, Temari and Shikamaru, both to check Shikadai but also to be good hosts for the entire company.

The wings were already painted on the biggest scroll, all according to the measurements Shikadai had counted to be the best for Inojin. Science was against human flying with wings, but shinobi had managed to defy physics and science before with different techniques, allowing them to levitate. Shikadai had never heard of a shinobi having bird wings, nor had any of the books he and Inojin had read about the subject, but physics worked the same as ever, making the calculations the same. Shikamaru had double checked everything and Shikadai had not been wrong in his mathematics.

The wingspan Inojin needed was 6,5 metres. That was not a short length.

A scroll the length of seven metres was laying on the floor, wings already painted by Sai.

“I tried different techniques and now I have a formula that should be stronger than any Ink,” Sai explained. “The base is made of three layers of Oil paint, then the feathers are made of Ink and Oil layers and finally everything is covered by Oil in the front. It should withstand many kunai blows without breaking apart.”

“Perfect,” Inojin said. He was sitting on a yoga mat on the floor, ready to twist and turn around and lay down flat on his stomach for the tattoo process to begin.

“If this fails,” Ino asked carefully, her eyes on Kankuro. “Is the seal reversible? Or will he walk with Ink sealed in his back forever?”

“This is reversable,” Kankuro said. “But it’s just as painful to get it done to get it removed. The tattoos are permanent of course.”

“That’s okay,” Inojin said. He had tattoos already and having two more was the least of his problems. Besides, Chocho had some already and he had heard her be so proud of them already that he wanted to compete with her tattoo status.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ino asked again of her son and he gave her a deadpan expression.

“I wouldn’t have studied this for months if I wasn’t sure,” he muttered. “We can begin.”

He lay down on the mat and Chocho and Karui came by his side, preparing tattoo ink and the tattoo gun, disinfecting his shoulders and cleaning their own hands. Chocho taped a paper with the reference of the seals on the wall above Inojin, so she could see the lines and follow them at all times.

She started the tattoo gun. Shikadai was sitting by Inojin’s head, to keep him chatting company while Chocho tattooed him.

“You okay, sweetie?” Shikadai asked.

“Yeah,” Inojin replied and enlaced their fingers together.

“Inojin, prepare yourself,” Chocho said and pressed the tattoo gun against his skin – his skin that he _felt_.

It did hurt a bit, the feeling of a needle ripping up his skin, but any feeling was welcomed with open arms.

“Ow,” Inojin said when the pain suddenly got even more intense.

“You’ve got acne here,” Chocho announced.

“And you just run over it?” Inojin snarled.

“Well, I have to cover it eventually with Ink, so you better get used to it,” Chocho said. “You should scrub your back.”

“And what the hell do you think I do when I shower?” Inojin muttered.

“I can think of multiple things – “Chocho said before trailing off when she remembered they were in the company of their parents and inappropriate sex jokes were not appreciated right now.

“Keep your hand steady,” Karui said, voice hard and stern. “You don’t want to mess this up.”

“Thank you, mum,” Chocho muttered back.

This was an intense moment for everyone involved. Inojin’s parents worried about him becoming disappointed or worse, physically hurt, if this trial didn’t work out, Chocho was stressed out from tattooing, Kankuro was focused on the sealing part, Shikadai was worried about Inojin being in pain and Choji was worried that the popcorn would be burnt.

The only ones not visibly stressed were Temari and Shikamaru.

After almost an hour the tattoos were done. Chocho’s hand was almost shaking from being so tense and focused for so long, and her wrist hurt. There were now two seals on Inojin’s each shoulder blade, a swirl with kanji written in certain sequences along the curves of the circles.

“Phew, the pain wasn’t that bad,” Inojin sighed.

“Just you wait,” Kankuro said as he replaced Chocho, sitting beside Inojin. “The sealing will now only begin.”

Sai brought over the painted wings and commanded one of them to detach from the scroll. Kankuro grabbed the edge of the wing to bring it closer to Inojin’s back.

And then the sealing began. Kankuro used a special needle to poke holes inside the already tender and scarred skin, where the sealing tattoos were, while he mumbled the same jutsu over and over again, to create the little sealed pocket inside Inojin’s body, where the wings will be stored when not in use.

It hurt much more than the tattooing process. Inojin bit down his teeth so hard against each other his jaw began aching, doing everything in his powers to not make noises.

“Are you ready?” Kankuro asked. “I will now transfuse the wing into your body.”

Inojin nodded, squeezing his hands closed, so the knuckles turned white.

Kankuro began chanting another jutsu and pressed the base of the wing into the seal, where it slowly began pressing against Inojin’s skin, and suddenly – slowly – went into his body.

Inojin tried to keep quiet, but the moment the wing attached itself to his shoulder blades like hooks into his bones, he began screaming.

Shikadai snapped his eyes closed, slammed his hands above his own ears, being triggered into a panic attack by Inojin’s screams.

“I’ll get him,” Shikamaru said as he swiftly made his way over to Shikadai. Shikadai was completely quiet, but had curled himself into a ball, with a whole body shaking. For the untrained eye, it didn’t even look like a panic attack, because this was a quiet one, without the obvious hyperventilation. This was Shikadai trying to hold his breath, whole body in a tense panic mode.

“S-sorry,” Inojin hissed when he noticed what had happened. Kankuro had stopped the process when they realised Shikadai wasn’t feeling well. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Shikamaru said, not even looking at Inojin. He grabbed Shikadai’s arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay, Shikadai, look at me.”

“Sorry,” Shikadai whined.

“Don’t be sorry, let’s go out a while in the fresh air.” Shikamaru hauled Shikadai up and dragged him with him.

Outside, on the porch, Shikamaru pressed Shikadai down on the steps. Inori came immediately by his side and pressed her snout underneath his chin and hands to get his attention, something she had been trained to do when he curled into a ball, unresponsive to the world.

Shikamaru patted Shikadai on his back while Inori licked his cheek.

“… ‘m sorry,” came out as a little whine after a while.

“It’s okay,” Shikamaru said. “Inojin had a rather nasty sound. No one can blame you for not handling hearing him in pain.”

“I didn’t think it would hurt that much,” Shikadai said and placed his hand on his heart. “Here. In that moment when he screamed… I relived all the moments I had failed him.” He closed his eyes and drops of tears fell down his cheeks. “I thought of when he was beaten in front of my eyes when I was separated from him to get that mission up in Kumo. I was reminded of all the times he was hurt, and I _failed_ to do anything.” He pressed his forehead against his kneecap, hand buried in Inori’s fur, like he did to ground himself. “It _hurts_ so much in my heart.”

He let himself lean against Shikamaru like so many times before. This one of Shikadai’s disorders, the panic stress disorder, was no child’s play, so intense during moments like these.

“I’m sorry,” Shikadai repeated.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Shikamaru said, holding his grown up son, his adult son, in a firm grip. The fact that Shikadai now qualified as an adult didn’t change a thing with how he reacted or what helped against his panic attacks. Adult or not, he was still Shikamaru’s child, and a hug helped Shikadai release tension inside his troubled mind.

Shikamaru let Shikadai breathe in and out, while they both looked at the forest on the other side of their lawn. And there, among the bushes and trees, two young stags were standing side by side. They were yearlings, born last summer and had now been weaned from their mothers, wandering around the Nara forest in the look for which herd they should join, or if they could maybe woo a doe and built a herd on their own.

“Look,” Shikamaru said and pointed at the stags. “Those two boys have been inseparable ever since they left their home herd.”

Shikadai looked at the stags, eyes red but his cheeks had dried already.

“I have waited for them to find their way into another herd and was for a while worried they were being rejected for some unknown reason,” Shikamaru continued. “I fed them here behind the house, worried they weren’t going to be happy. But they never left each other’s side. They walk together, both stags, eating together, sleeping together.” Shikamaru squeezed Shikadai in an affectionate way. “And then, when I looked at them, I saw you and Inojin. Suddenly everything made sense. They weren’t suffering, they were happy like that. They had each other, and I had only been a fool for not recognising that they didn’t need any doe or a herd protecting them. They are a little herd on their own, those two stags, and every time I see them, I feel happy. Happy that there are also animals doing something against what nature maybe once sought out for them.” He pressed a little kiss on the crown of Shikadai’s head. “I love you, my boy. As you are.”

Shikadai exhaled one final shuddering exhale, feeling empty and tired in his whole body, before relaxing a little more.

“I feel a little bit better now,” he said, feeling his father’s love in his chest. “Thank you.”

That was the moment Inojin came out. He had no shirt on, but a towel was covering his back. His hair had come loose from its ponytail and he was sweaty and a light shade of red in the face, but he didn’t seem to be in pain anymore.

“Hey,” he said and wheeled closer to Shikadai. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I wasn’t prepared for that intensity.”

Shikadai looked up at Inojin and reached for his hand.

“I didn’t know I’d react like that either,” he said, voice thin with no volume in it. He wanted to complain how it was so hard to never be able to feel safe in his own skin, that his mind will betray him any moment and send him into that painful place. It had gotten far better, since the beginning on his journey. Loud noises were more manageable, thunder didn’t feel like the end of the world crashing down on him and anniversary days didn’t feel like being stuck in the raging strength of a river that drowns you.

But still, a scream of pain from Inojin was all it took for Shikadai to be immobilized completely.

“I’m sorry,” Inojin said again and let his thumb run back and forth over the back of Shikadai’s hand. He looked up and saw the two stags among the trees. “Look! Two deer!”

That prompted Shikadai to smile.

“They’re two boys,” Shikadai whispered. “They haven’t gone looking for a herd but stay together instead. Dad says they’re like us.”

Shikamaru turned his head away from the boys to not show them his face. He had not been prepared that Shikadai would tell Inojin whatever he had been thinking about.

Inojin smiled as well at the thought as he looked at the stags, who stared back at them, before they turned around and made their way into the darkness of the shadows in the forest.

“Come inside,” Inojin said. “Choji is done with the food. You think you can eat?”

“I can always eat Choji’s food,” Shikadai joked and they made their way inside.

Choji’s food was a sight to take in, the dinner table filled with a wonderful buffe. He had taken his role as ‘food responsible’ with utmost care and for a second Shikadai and Inojin was jealous as Chocho for having grown up with this kind of dinner tables every day.

Kankuro had already begun eating – he was hungry as a wolf, he stated as he dug into cooked meat.

“We’ll let the seals rest of a bit,” he said as he looked at Inojin, mouth filled with food. “Then, later tonight you can try to unlock them. Do not try to fly yet, we don’t know almost anything about this type of sealing.”

Ino turned to look at Inojin.

“You do not try to fly yet,” she repeated and the worry in her voice was audible. It was no wonder Inojin’s parents were fretting over him, they had just witnessed him having a hard time when getting painful seals done, and it wasn’t like the past three years had been incredibly difficult for the whole family.

“Yes, yes,” Inojin said. His shoulders were pulsating warmth and they felt so, so tender that trying to flex his shoulders was the last thing he wanted right now. Right now, he wanted to eat and talk with his friends and listen to the friendly chatter of their parents. Kankuro was also here, and even if Inojin wasn’t too familiar with him from before, he had been incredibly nice to him and Kankuro melted seamlessly into the social shenanigans of the Ino-Shika-Cho.

Both Chowi and Inori padded around the table, looking for treats where they happened to get it, and there was no shortage of hands reaching down below the table to feed the dogs. For that moment everything felt like it should. It felt like home, like happiness. Both generations of Ino-Shika-Cho and the dogs, collected by the same table, laughing, talking, feeling happy.

The outside world didn’t matter, the course of the universe didn’t matter. In that moment, that living room was the universe, and it was _everything_.

Kankuro wasn’t too happy by Temari’s decision to join him on the way back to Suna the following morning. Inojin’s shoulders had been so tender that he had almost cried in pain when trying to use the seals, and Kankuro had suggested a few days rest before he would try to let the wings emerge out of his back. He promised to come back in a few weeks to witness when Inojin – that time with healed seals – would be able to use the wings for real.

Sadly, he couldn’t stay in Konoha to supervise that usage until later, as he had missions and business back in Suna to take care of.

Temari had come with him.

“Gaara is worried about this,” Kankuro said after Temari had stared out of the train window for a long time.

“I will find the Nameless One,” Temari said. “And kill them. I will eradicate every threat to Shikadai. I cannot bear the knowledge that someone might want to kill him because of something beyond his control, like dopamine levels.”

“We don’t know anything about them,” Kankuro said. “They can be incredibly powerful.”

“I know, and I don’t care,” Temari said. “You can help me. Avenge our mother together with me.”

“Gaara thought is was a dumb idea,” Kankuro replied. “That revenge will bring our village back into the bad state it was during father’s reign – “

“Our village was in a bad state _because_ of the Nameless One,” Temari snarled. “They are partly the reason why dad died inside and turned into the monster we knew.”

Kankuro didn’t reply. Instead, he stared out of the window, at the vast desert flashing beside them is racing speed. Telling Temari what to do never worked, and right now so many emotions were at play. Shikadai’s future and Karura’s past intertwined into a nightmarish twirl of genes, stigma and someone who would like to see them dead.

“I assume Shikadai won’t ever get a biological child,” Kankuro said instead. He was thinking of the gene of madness which Shikadai was carrying.

“I don’t think so either,” Temari said. “He loves Inojin enough to not separate any time soon, that I am sure of. Wombs are not for rent.”

“Does he want children at all?” Kankuro asked.

Temari looked him in his eyes. These questions felt out of place for her. Kankuro wasn’t the type to talk about things such as _love_ and _babies_ , yet he now felt inquired to speculate in Shikadai’s possible chances of becoming a father. She felt it in the air, how Kankuro doubted Shikadai’s possibility of being a dad.

“I don’t know,” Temari said again. “We haven’t talked about it.”

That shut Kankuro effectively off.

“I will find that Nameless person,” Temari said after a long time of silence. “Whatever it takes, I will protect my child.”

She couldn’t bear the thought of becoming a childless mother. She must succeed. Whatever it takes, she will succeed.

She will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo. Temari is going back to Suna. What if she meets the Nameless One in the next chapter? Just you wait..... 
> 
> 😘


	10. Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So -
> 
> tw: non-consentual actions towards a person's body, blood and injury, ~~there might be incapitation~~
> 
> HANG ON TIGHT, HERE WE GO!

The basement was empty. Everything had been removed, the furniture, the books-shelves in which the binders had been stored, everything. The whole room screamed of the newly found emptiness. The documents of Karura’s past was still in Temari’s safe protection back in Konoha. Everything seemed in order.

Except there was still someone out there who had seen her taken the binders. Someone out there knew where they possibly were, and Temari had no clue who it was.

Today, Shinki had his teammates over. There were all playing cards in the living room when Temari arrived. It was so peaceful in the village. Her nephew and friends enjoying a free day together, no sandstorms incoming or passing and the weather was beautiful.

The life in the village was going on about its daily life, and it seemed like Temari’s life was the only that felt shaken. Well, if she ignored that Yodo seemed upset, tears occasionally finding their ways down her cheeks. Temari was aware that Yodo was upset about something but decided to not interfere as she was sipping her tea in the kitchen, talking with Kankuro.

Finally, after having lost the card game, Yodo stood up. She announced with a rather sharp tone that she was going to leave, wiped her eyes with her sleeve and messed up her makeup at the same time.

“Where will you go?” Shinki asked, and he sounded genuinely worried. Temari had never heard him that worried before. “You can stay here if you want.”

“No, I have a safe place,” Yodo said. “Thanks for trying to help.”

“Okay,” Shinki said. “See you tomorrow.”

Yodo nodded and made her way out. Araya followed soon after. When all guests had left Temari placed down her teacup.

“Why was Yodo upset?”

Shinki took a deep breath.

“I know this might be a lot to ask of you,” he said. “But I would like to request you to talk to Yodo.” He bent his head slightly down, as in a bow. “She is like Shikadai and Inojin and her parents do not accept that. Yesterday she informed them that she will not marry a man and they were enraged. That is why she was so upset today. I was hoping you could talk to her about that. I cannot suggest anything for you to say, but I figured out you had had such talks with Shikadai before.”

He looked up from his bow, his eyes a little bit pleading and eighteen-year-old or not, in that moment Shinki seemed just like a small child worrying for his friend.

Temari shot him a weary smile.

“I can talk to her,” she said. “I didn’t know she had those problems to deal with. That is sad to hear that her parents don’t accept her.”

“Thank you, aunt,” Shinki said. “We are going to meet again tomorrow, and I was hoping you’d be able to talk to her then.”

“I’d gladly talk,” Temari said. Shinki nodded once and walked to his own toom.

Nothing out of the ordinary had happened in Suna on a larger scale than that of inside the walls of homes. The councilmembers seemed pleased by the fact that no official threat had been sent to them about Shikadai. They meant that the disinheriting of Shikadai had helped, that he was now safe, since he wasn’t any more in a position to potentially inherit the Kage seat and lead Suna one day. They meant there was nothing to fear anymore and that trying to find a person not wanting to be found was no use.

If the gigantic search operation Rasa once had put into works had failed, what could one single shinobi do now, forty years after the assassination attempt on Karura?

“Besides, Shikadai is safe in Konoha,” the councilman said, not sounding the slightest bothered.

“But every time he would visit here, he would be in potential danger,” Temari snarled.

“For eighteen years nothing has happened to him, no matter how much he has strolled our alleys on his own,” the councilman said. “When the dual system came into place four years ago, it was declared and was spread out to the entire village that Nara Shikadai of the Sand, Temari’s son, will now be officially seen as one of ours and that he was a legitimate heir. He wasn’t in danger then.”

“But that was before his symptoms began,” Temari said. “His illness wasn’t out in the open, and it seems like someone has spread that info. Who is it?”

“We don’t know,” the councilman said.

“The Nameless One is a snake,” Temari said. “Someone who has slithered itself into the higher hierarchy, getting secret information. Shikadai’s condition is not official information to be shared left and right, and this person has had access to it through _you._ Through the council.”

“Bold of you to blame us,” the councilman said, and he didn’t appear worried at all. If not, he seemed irritated Temari accused him.

“Or someone of your little merry gang of old geezers with power to toy us around is a mole,” Temari said. “What is the Nameless One isn’t an outsider, a random criminal, but a skilled, hired assassin by our very own council because you discriminate people living with psychosis? This council didn’t want my father to marry my mother because of her condition, so the cleverest way to get your will through without harassing and angering Rasa was to kill her, right? And now, you are petty and worried my son – ”

The councilman sat up, red in the face and eyes widened in anger.

“Such accusations!” he spat into Temari’s face. “I can’t believe I am hearing this from you, Princess, accusing your own council of wanting to assassin their Prince, half Konohan or not, sick in his mind or not – “

“Use the correct term!” Temari snarled, now she also standing to be at the same eyelevel.

“I used the correct term,” the councilman hissed. “Sick. In. His. Mind. That is the truth, isn’t it? There is no use trying to cover the reality with a rose filter, is there? A boy failing to keep track of what is real and what is not can’t be considered sane.”

“Are you the Nameless One?” Temari asked. The councilman stared at her, the redness shifting to a grey colour.

“You are out of your mind,” the man finally said. “If you want to go out and look for an invisible person, fine. Do it. Use your own resources, do as you wish. Never talk to me about this issue again. We already did what we could to protect your son, and we are satisfied by the result. Shinki will be the next Kazekage as had always been discussed, and Shikadai may stay in Konoha with his crippled boyfriend and pet the deer.”

Temari narrowed her eyes, still waiting for a homophobic slur at the end, but it never came. Her breathing was heavy out of anger for what he had called Inojin.

“Fine,” she said. “And fuck you.” She left.

Kankuro and Gaara weren’t too surprised that the meeting hadn’t gone as planned, but the starting point was still the same – they had no idea where this Nameless One could be, nor how they got their information. There had to be a spy somewhere.

Temari called home, sick in her stomach and a longing for her husband nagging at the back of her head.

“Am I really out of my mind?” she asked Shikamaru on the other side of the line. “Everyone thinks I am overexaggerating.”

“You are not out of your mind,” Shikamaru replied softly. “You are just a mother who loves her baby. What more can I ask of you?”

“Am I doing the wrong thing?” she asked. “Is it right of me to try to find a person no one knows even exist instead of being home and spend time with Shikadai?” She smiled at the thought of her son. “Do you remember when he was really small, and I was going home alone for the first time after his birth? And I was going to leave him with you?”

“I remember how scared you were,” Shikamaru said, and Temari heard he was smiling. “You didn’t think I could change his nappies properly, or – “

“That was just a joke,” Temari said, smiling. “I always knew you could do it. You were wonderful with him when he was a small little bundle.”

“What were you afraid of, then?” Shikamaru asked.

“I was afraid I’d miss him grow up,” Temari said. “He grew so fast as a baby, and I felt like I didn’t want to miss a minute of that. All the pukes, and poop and crying during the night, it was worth all the hours I could stare into his eyes and he stared back at me. It was worth that first smile, his first babble, everything.” She looked out of the window, at the setting sun. “And right now, I feel the same. I feel like I am missing the good days. Am I missing him laughing, or having a nice dream, or feeling good and loved? Those days are so precious, when he talks so much and is happy, Shikamaru. I wonder if something happens and I might have been able to avoid that thing from happening and now, because I am here, I can’t, and he’ll have anxiety or can’t sleep or cries against Inori.”

“You are worrying, Tem,” Shikamaru said. “He was here earlier today. He wanted to go out in the forest and find the two stags who live together.”

“Did you go?”

“Yes, we went out on a walk,” he said. “Inori was with us too. Shikadai was talkative and he was in a good mood. Everything is okay here.”

“Where was Inojin?”

“At his parents’,” Shikamaru said. They both knew Inojin couldn’t go in the Nara forest, something Shikadai had been sad over. Sometimes Shikadai carried him in a piggyback and they went just a little bit into the forest to listen to the birds and spot some deer, but they never went far. Real hikes were a thing in the past for Inojin.

“Has he been able to use the wings yet?”

“No,” Shikamaru said. “He can take them in and out though. It’s a true sight to be seen. His wings are huge, and light purple and black to their colour. He hasn’t tried to move them around or fly yet, just taking them in and out. Apparently, it hurts.”

“Okay,” Temari said. “Hopefully he can utilize them soon. If not for whatever fighting he imagines, but for getting inside the forest or out in the desert with Shikadai, like they dream of.”

She had to smile at the thought of Shikadai. Her heart sank heavier than ever before in her ribcage. This was a futile mission. Where would she begin looking for a person they don’t know existed until a few weeks ago. Was she really going mad? Is this how Shikadai feels when he becomes paranoid and delusional, when the psychosis has a stronger grip around his mind?

“I think I’ll… I’ll come home soon.”

“You decide yourself when you want to come,” Shikamaru said. “Talk with Kankuro and Gaara. Shikadai is fine here.”

“Thank you,” Temari said and soon enough their phone call ended.

Temari decided to walk up the ladder to sit on the roof of the house she grew up in, to look at the stars. She didn’t feel like sleeping. Gaara had already gone to sleep, having to wake up early tomorrow for a meeting and for preparing the agenda, while Kankuro was somewhere else, having gone into town. He had told them he’d be home later in the night. Temari was alone on the rooftop, looking for guidance among the stars. Asking universe why everything felt so uncertain, why everything felt so hopeless.

Just like always when the sun sets in the desert, the temperature drops significantly and Temari began almost freezing when darkness surrounded her, like so many times when she was a child and had looked for safety and calmness on the rooftop.

Universe wasn’t answering her today. Wasn’t telling here where to find hope in this situation.

Finally, she felt like having stared enough at the sky and stood up, only to feel her own knees buckle beneath her. She crashed down on all four, hitting her knees hard against concrete.

_Ouch. That was weird._

She tried to stand up again, only to see the world spin around her at a dangerous pace, as if she were tumbling around in a tornado, but she wasn’t, she was leaning on all four on a rooftop and nothing made sense. The world was spinning around her, and it made it hard to move.

Temari turned nauseous from the feeling of being thrown around despite not moving a single muscle and she had to lean down and vomit.

_What is going on?_

Temari forced her legs to move and pressed herself up on two feet, but her body moved as if she was as drunk as a human physically can be before passing out, nor was she seeing straight and when she took a step forward, she misjudged the distance, stepped wrong and her knee buckled again.

She crashed on the floor again.

Her hands began shaking against the concrete, anger and fright charging through her.

_This has to be a jutsu._

Her brain was completely on the clear, understanding that something was wrong, but her body didn’t react the slightest as it should. The world was tumbling around her at an insane speed and her stomach tickled as if she was falling from a high place, falling uncontrollably, but she was still just lying on the concrete.

She couldn’t almost move her head, pressing her cheek against the surface, feeling nausea cover her once more.

Then she saw a pair of feet in front of her.

At first, she though it was Gaara.

“I can’t get up, I don’t know what is going on,” she whimpered, before looking at the toes and realising that it, in fact, wasn’t Gaara.

The person standing in front of her, on her own rooftop, was a stranger.

Who the fuck was it?

“Release me!” Temari screamed instead. “What jutsu are you using?” She tried to get up, but the nausea was overwhelming. She pressed her face down against the roof once more. “I will… kill you.”

“Silence, Princess,” the person said. It was a woman, voice thin as silk. “You are not being physically hurt.”

“What the hell are you doing to me?” Temari snarled, almost on the verge of crying. She tried to sit up and her hand moved through her own vomit on the floor. It was just as nasty as one might imagine how it feels to touch one’s own puke. “Let me go!”

The lady crouched down and Temari saw white hair in a long braid. The woman bore Suna’s armour, Suna’s crest on her forehead protector and burgundy red pants. She was beautiful.

“I’m just messing with your sense of balance,” the woman said calmly, as if it was normal to attack people out of the blue. “I turned it up quite a bit. It’s a Sound jutsu straight in your balance organs in your ears. Your sense of balance is just sending your brain the wrong signals now, that is why you feel like tumbling around, even if you lie down. Everything will go back to normal when I deactivate it.”

Temari stared at blue eyes. Not exactly the same colour as the one she remembered seeing stalking her when she retrieved the documents, but close to it. Maybe her mind was playing a trick on her.

“Are you… are you the Nameless One?” Temari hissed.

“Oh, I haven’t heard that nickname in a long time,” the woman said, surprised. “No, I am not. But I know who he was.”

“Was?” Temari hissed. “Is he dead?”

“No longer alive,” the woman confirmed. “Died of age-related issues a few years ago.”

_Age related issues? Who was that person?_

“Why are you doing this?” Temari’s voice must’ve told the lady the agony she was going through.

“Can’t tell you yet,” the woman said. “Don’t be afraid. You won’t die.”

It hurt in Temari’s ears, and her world turned dark.

When she woke up again her hands and feet were tied with leather belts, in the most unnerving way possible. Temari was lying on her back on a table, her arms bent in a ninety-degree angle, fists on either side of her head. Her legs were slightly bent, and her feet locked in place by belts tight around her ankles.

This was a belting station. Temari looked around her, around in what seemed to be a room inside a hospital of some kind, but this was not Suna’s common hospital. Temari knew what Suna’s hospital looked like, and they did not have tiles this colour, nor mould in the corners. Nor painting chipping off the ceiling as if no one had cared to take care of the building.

Was this an abandoned hospital?

Where was she? What were they going to do?

The lady with the white hair stood in the doorway. She had a surgical mask on her, and plastic gloves on her hands. _A surgeon? Oh, shit._

“You have already been given local anaesthesia,” the lady said, pointing at Temari. Temari swallowed. If what the enemy said was true, it meant she had gotten needles pressed into her body, without her knowing it. Without her consent. “It shouldn’t hurt too much. And my pliers are boiled in hot salt-water. They are cleaned. Everything will be over in a moment.”

What? Pliers? _What?_

Temari licked her lips, body stiff as a violin string, panic racing through her mind. Most of the times she wasn’t a person to panic. Most of the time she could think strategically. But in a moment like this, being belted down to a table and a person talking about pliers and some kind of surgery, one might have a very hard time to remain calm. The fight-or-flight response kicked in.

“Don’t touch me!” Temari yelled.

“You brought madness to the world,” the lady said. “You were made faulty, you carried madness inside you.” She came closer. Temari began shaking. “I’m not going to kill you, do not worry. I am just going to make sure you can’t get more babies. You’re still fertile, aren’t you?”

Temari squeezed her eyes shut.

“No, no, no!”

“It’s just two small incisions,” the lady explained. “One here.” She pressed on the left side of Temari’s abdomen, right above the ovary there. “And one here.” She pressed on the other ovary.

Temari had never been as afraid for her own life as in that moment. This woman was trying to sterilize her and she was awake and was only under local anaesthesia.

Was this how people like her mother were treated? Suddenly one of her father’s diary entries flashed through her head.

_One of the psychiatrists recommended sterilization after our firstborn is born. He claimed women like Karura weren’t fit to become mothers and we’d spare pain from our future children if we kept only to the first child. Torture, is what I say. Akari, Karura’s friend, had received the same recommendation. She told us her father will force her to the procedure after her firstborn is in our world. Their due date is just a few weeks before our firstborn’s. I hope Akari won’t be forced. After all, no man should force his will on a woman’s freedom._

_-R_

The lady in front of Temari reached for the scalpel and the pliers, and Temari twisted her head, forced her hand closer to her face despite the belt trying to hinder her. The belt cut into her skin, but she didn’t care as she bit as hard as she could in her thumb until the skin broke. She smeared the blood along her own cheek, just the one centimetre the belt allowed her.

“Summoning jutsu!” she screamed, and the lady backed off when the storm that surrounded Kamatari filled the room.

Kamatari didn’t need any jutsu nor command from Temari as her fear was more than enough for him to act accordingly. Kamatari was cruel – so was Temari – and this woman here might be the cruellest of them all as she stood there with the scalpel ready.

Kamatari rushed through the air towards the woman and with his sickle separated her head from her body before she had time to do repel the weasel and his attack. Her head fell to the floor with a loud _thump._

When the wind died out to nothingness Kamatari stood by Temari’s body on the table she was tied to.

“You got yourself into trouble, Princess,” he said, stating the obvious.

“Get me out of these,” Temari hissed. Kamatari obeyed and sliced the belts in smooth motions. Temari threw herself off the table, clutching her stomach. She held her hands over her abdomen as if feeling after a child not existing inside her. She almost wanted to throw up again.

She stared at the woman’s severed head.

“She used a Sound jutsu on me, which temporarily destroyed my sense of balance. I couldn’t walk or even move because my brain couldn’t deal with my surroundings in that mode.”

“A Sound jutsu,” Kamatari repeated. “She must’ve used a sound you can’t hear, focusing it on your ear canal.”

It dawned to Temari now what really had happened to her. The sound jutsu had gone into her balance organ inside her ears, and messed up with the small crystals inside, which informed the brain where the body is in relation to gravity. That was why she couldn’t walk, because her brain believed she was tumbling around in air.

A jutsu which did not concretely harm, only immobilize the victim completely.

“She was trying to –“ Temari tried to say as she clutched her stomach again and furious tears made their way down her cheeks. It had been so frightening, that second of complete terror when she didn’t know how she’d escape yet and she had seen the pliers. “Oh my god…”

“Let’s get out of here,” Kamatari said. Temari grabbed the long braid of the woman, carrying the head with her at they walked through the door.

She didn’t have her fan with her, so she made her way with Kamatari through the abandoned hospital, scared and tired. The tiles of the walls were shattered, there was dust, dirt and mould everywhere and something Temari knew was of human origin smattered along the walls in some places. Dried blood.

She was so nauseous.

“Where are we?” she asked, hand clutching harder against the braid of the woman. A human head weights more than one imagine and Temari wanted to just throw it away. Let it rot in the sun. She didn’t.

They found a broken window on the ground level and Temari made her swift escape out of it. Her feet landed on solid rock and the sunlight grazed down upon her. It must be midday already.

She had been gone for the whole night and the whole morning. Temari bit her lip, feeling scared at the realisation she had been vulnerable and helpless for so long, unconscious. She looked down from the mountain she was standing on, one of the mountains surrounding the village. She could make out the line of the village, the edges of the houses through blurry tears.

“Temari,” Kamatari said. “Don’t look back. Just go down.”

That didn’t obviously stop Temari from turning around and look behind her, at the signboard above a door a little further away from the window she had jumped out of.

She pressed her free hand up to her mouth, staring at the text.

_Sunakagure’s Asylum for Lunatics_

This was the Old Asylum of Suna. This was the only place the mentally ill were placed before the health care system was reformed and the new mental hospital was built when Temari was in her late teens, leaving this completely abandoned and forgotten.

The woman had brought her to the asylum her own mother had spent time in.

Temari walked home with decisive steps, because she wasn’t one to break down and cry, even if she in that moment would have wanted it. Wanted to fall into someone’s arms and be held, like she never had before. Wanting to hold Shikadai and whisper in his ear that everything will be alright, like when she had taken calming-duty. They called it calming duty, because it was the far most effective way to be only one person to hug and take care of Shikadai when he broke down, and they used to switch whichever parent did it. The less distractions there were, the easier Shikadai had to ground himself again.

Temari stumbled into her childhood home, knowing Gaara would be at home today, working remotely. Maybe Kankuro would be there too. She didn’t know. A whole night has passed, and she had been kidnapped, put to sleep against her will.

She threw the head of the wicked woman onto the floor, a sound that made Gaara emerge from his home office.

“Tema – “ he said before he noticed the severed head on the floor. He shut up and stared at the woman’s face. “Who is this?”

“I don’t know,” Temari said. “She – she managed to take me during the night and… and…”

She clutched her stomach, feelings piling up again.

“She tried to sterilize me,” she finally whispered and Gaara opened his mouth, with no sound emerging from it. “How come didn’t you notice I was gone?”

“Because you left a note that you’d be gone,” Gaara said, sounding confused.

“What note?”

Gaara swallowed quickly, turned his heel, and rushed into Temari’s room. He came back with a handwritten note stating, _I’m out for the night. You don’t have to worry for me. -Tem_

“And Kankuro found it and we just shrugged our shoulders because you used to do this all the time when you still lived here,” Gaara said and Temari stared at the note. The handwriting was freakishly close to her own. Someone had forged her handwriting.

Who had been in their house, in Temari’s room and placed the note on her pillow _without_ three highly skilled shinobi in the house noticing it?

“You can’t mean it,” she whispered. “Someone has been here… in my room…”

Gaara couldn’t bear to meet his sister’s and reluctantly stared down at the head on their floor. It had slightly stained the stone floor with something brown and nasty.

“We need to identify this woman,” he said, and that was the moment Shinki came inside with a plastic bag in his hands. He had been to the grocery shop to get something and stumbled into the hall behind Temari.

“Hello,” he said when he noticed his father’s distressed face. “What is going on?”

He then noticed the head on the floor, and his eyes widened trifold. He didn’t say a word, only stared at the woman. She was turning more unrecognisable by the minute, her skin turning purple, making the face sooner than later seem inhumane, but it was evident Shinki _knew_ who this woman was when he wouldn’t stop staring.

“Do you know who this is?” Temari asked. Shinki nodded slowly.

“It’s… it’s Yodo’s mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are interested, Yodo's eyes are green-blue.... hehe!
> 
> Was Yodo the mole? 👀


	11. Oh Shikadai, our Shikadai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warnings for this chapter:**
> 
> Off-stage framed suicide attempt through slicing one's own wrist. No graphic description of the act in the attempt and **no one dies.**
> 
> Later on discussion about said attempt.
> 
> Blood and injury. Lots of tears and anxiety. This chapter is meant to be sad, and remember **the ending is happy!**
> 
> The scene with the attempt has scene change black lines, for those who want to skip said scene. If you want to skip the entire chapter, there is a non-grapic summary in the ending notes. The final scene in this chapter is not connected to the attempt and is non-triggering.

Someone knocked on the door and the youngest generation of Ino-Shika-Cho turned their heads to look at it. They had just finished their food, Inojin, Shikadai and Chocho. Chocho had come over for dinner to the boys’ apartment. They loved spending time in this way, since Chocho often went on missions conjoined with another team and now that she was a jonin she had decided she wanted to get a genin team assigned to her. That meant that she’d be closer to Shikadai and Inojin and not away on missions in faraway lands every other week.

They had had a nice dinner together, just spending time together, eating and chatting. After all they had been through, their team had been forged together into one unit, one entity.

“Who has business to us now?” Inojin had to ask the rhetorical question. It was already eight in the evening.

“I’ll get that,” Shikadai said as he raised from his chair. Both Inori and Chowi followed him, excited to see who the guest was. He opened the door and took a surprised step back. “Yodo? What are you doing here?”

On the other side of the door, Yodo was standing. Her makeup was smeared, and her hair had tangles in it, like she hadn’t brushed it.

“Can I – can I come in?” she asked and Shikadai took a polite step to the side.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, after having seen how upset she was. Now Chocho has risen from the table and Inojin came closer too.

Yodo wouldn’t look into Shikadai’s eyes, and stared down at the dogs, who were still happy that there was a new person in the flat to say hello to. She crouched down and both dogs offered their calming presence.

“Did you tell your parents?” Inojin asked. When he and Yodo had talked about sexuality and potential struggles, he had suggested Yodo needed to come to some sort of conclusion to how she was going to go about telling people if she felt like she wanted to lighten the burden. Now she had followed his advice; come out and had faced the worst of reactions. The fact that she had come to _them_ , no another country, spoke loudly on its own.

“They didn’t take it well,” Yodo mumbled.

“Hi,” Chocho said, moving closer. She hadn’t seen Yodo in a while. “Do you want to share with us what has happened?”

“I don’t like boys. I told my parents I won’t marry a man and give them… a grandchild,” Yodo said, almost spitting out the final word. “They weren’t happy about it. Said awful things about me, that I _owe_ them a grandchild after all they’ve done for me, that I need to prove –“ She stopped herself, realising she was now babbling just because she was upset. “I wanted to run away. I’m sorry for coming here, all the way to yours, I realise I must sound absolutely desperate – “

“It’s okay,” Shikadai said. “We have little leftovers from our dinner, we were just finished.” The fact that they had leftovers was an exception. For some reason, Chocho hadn’t felt like wanting to swallow the entire menu this night.

“Just tea is okay,” Yodo whispered.

“Sure,” Inojin said, and pulled his pushrims so he backed into the kitchen. The tea collection was on the counter, easy for him to grab and he placed it more visibly so Yodo could choose her own tea in peace. He flicked the kettle on. It had already been filled with water.

“I – I bought the train ticket here with the only money I had on me,” Yodo said, face completely red. “Is it okay if I stay here?”

Shikadai hesitated. Somehow the idea of hosting someone overnight who wasn’t Chocho or Mitsuki felt intimidating as he had never had anyone but them over night before in this apartment.

“Um,” he said. “I guess.”

He couldn’t just say no. Yodo had fled her freaking country after the outburst of her parents and to turn her on his doorstep felt like stabbing a sister in her back. Yodo was like he, belonging to the same minority and he should be ashamed if he didn’t offer her support in this moment.

His anxiety said no.

His voice said yes.

“Yes, you can stay.”

Inojin stayed awake with Yodo, drinking more tea and chatted while Shikadai prepared himself for bed and slid down under the covers. Inori lay by Shikadai’s feet like she always did before becoming too hot among the covers. She had been strictly trained to never move to Inojin’s feet, because if she accidentally lay down on his feet she could cause a skin sore for him, if her extra weight pressed his feet against the mattress. An ablebodied person would just move their feet even in their sleep, but Inojin couldn’t when he was asleep and couldn’t control the tattoos, which meant that if the pressure against the feet was too constant, the skin begin to die.

Shikadai lay still, having taken his sleeping medicine and done all the mantras that usually calmed him down and helped him sleep, and Hama, the voice, was talking about Yodo.

 _I bet she will try to stab you in your sleep,_ Hama said.

 _Shut up shut up shut up,_ Shikadai replied.

Shikadai closed his eyes, wishing even the final voice would die because of the medicine but the disorder was stronger. He accepted Hama’s idle chatter, put earplugs into his ears and began listening to music. At some point he fell asleep, when Hama had disappeared and he found a good position.

Inojin gave Shikadai a small kiss on his cheek when he finally came to bed. He and Yodo had prepared the sofa for her to sleep on and he had been extra slow with his evening routine. Shikadai had probably slept for a good while already and Inori had moved down to the mat beside Shikadai’s side of the bed.

Tomorrow they would figure out what to do with Yodo and how to get her safely back home.

When Inojin woke up he was alone in the bed. He didn’t react at it at first, assuming Shikadai was on the toilet, so he waited a little while. When nothing but silence came from the bathroom he sat up. Inori wasn’t anywhere to be seen either.

“Shikadai? Sweetie?” he called out and received no reply. He swallowed. “Yodo? Wake up. Is Shikadai there?”

He heard a tired mumble from the living room and how Yodo switched position under her covers.

“Mmm… What?”

“Is Shikadai there?”

“Hm, no?” she drowsily replied.

The next possibility that Inori had gotten a need to pee entered Inojin’s head. Shikadai was most likely out on a bathroom walk with her.

“Is Inori there?”

“Uh, yes,” Yodo said. “She is sitting in front of the door and looks up against it. I… think Shikadai has left.”

Why is Inori here but not Shikadai?

“What?”

A coldness spread in Inojin’s stomach and he turned to look at Shikadai’s side of the bed.

When he saw the letter left on the pillow the tears began falling before he even had read it. He lifted it up and read the first line. A sound of grief coming from Inojin’s heart shattered the silence.

Ino had been awoken by Inojin’s panicky mind messages, barely making sense of his sharp, high-pitched ramblings. When she finally understood what had happened, she dressed herself as fast as she could and let her voice holler Shikamaru awake inside his mind. Waking Shikamaru up had never been an easy challenge, but Ino’s voice was high-pitched enough to pierce his sweet dreams, only to turn his barely begun day into a waking nightmare.

Shikamaru had jumped out of bed, bright awake as fear pulsated through him as he abandoned everything inside their home to get over to Ino.

“No, this can’t happen, no, no, Temari is not here,” he rambled to Ino when he had shunshinned up to her house. His shirt was unbuttoned and one of his shoes weren’t even properly set on the foot. He had never rushed out of his house that fast before.

It was rare for Ino to see Shikamaru this upset, this detached from his usual chill posture. All the times Shikadai had been in a bad place Shikamaru had remained calm, being the one who had calmed Temari down, being the one to arrange things with the hospital and call therapists and psychologists to discuss treatment plans and the future. He had been the planner. When they found out their children had disappeared up in the cold North, he had calmed Ino down when she was outrageous and scared. He had been a pillar to lean on.

Ino realised the only time he had probably been this disrupt was when Asuma fought to his death.

“Does she know?” Shikamaru asked, fiddling with a cigarette. His fingers were shaking too much for them to focus on using the lighter correctly, his fingertips slipped all the time and the flame remained just a spark to die out.

“We haven’t contacted her yet,” Ino said.

“Good,” Shikamaru said. “Don’t tell her yet. I want to know he’s safe before… before I tell her. It’s unreasonable to scare her when she is that far away. Who wants to be in another country, an eight-hours train ride away when their… when their child… threatens to …”

He had promised Temari. He had said in the phone when she called yesterday that Shikadai was fine, he had told her she was worrying too much. How could he look her ever in the eye again if Shikadai a day after that conversation dies by suicide without Shikamaru having seen any signs?

Shikamaru couldn’t finish the sentence. Ino draped him into a hug and to her surprise he was open to the embrace. He hugged back and all memories from when Shikamaru was utterly destroyed from Asuma’s death came back. How small and depressed he had been back then, and now, no matter how high position he had in their society, no matter how strong and smart he could be seen as on the outside, his inside threatened to break down.

“There Inojin comes,” Sai, who was also there, ready to move to action, said and pointed down the road.

Inojin was wheeling as fast as he could, his whole body moving in the smooth wave motion as he pushed himself forward. Inori was running beside him and the fact that Shikadai had left Inori behind him broke Shikamaru’s heart.

“Sorry it took so long,” Inojin said, while gasping for breath. No one judged him for being slower than the rest. It took long to get dressed and get ready to even step outside the door after all. “Have you found him?”

He looked at Ino.

“Yes, south of here, and I don’t know how he managed to get that far,” she replied.

“Can you - ?”

“No, I can’t contact him,” Ino said. “It’s like his mind is guarded.”

They all knew what that meant. A non-penetrable mind means an unhealthy mind.

“Do you have the note?” Shikamaru asked. “Let me see it.”

Inojin had the letter scrunched beside him in the chair and he reached it up towards Shikamaru. He ripped the letter from Inojin’s hand, stared at it and let a little noise escape his throat.

How else are you supposed to react reading a suicide note?

_Inojin. I am so sorry it had to end this way. I will always love you. Tell dad and mum I love them too._

_See you above the stars._

_Your Shikadai_

“He can’t mean it,” Shikamaru whispered.

Talking about suicide with someone who struggled with a mental illness wasn’t unusual for them. It was their jobs as Shikadai’s loved ones to sometimes ask him if he ever had considered suicide. It was a prevention, a way to open up a discussion so Shikadai wouldn’t have to pile up feelings, which would eventually lead to dangerous decisions.

Like a blessing from above, he had never had to deal with crippling suicide thoughts and whenever he had been honest the problems had been properly dealt with. He had even come up to his parents and made a promise.

 _Whatever happens, I promise I will never attempt suicide,_ he had said.

He had always wanted to fight. It was in his blood, that fighting spirit, the will to live on, despite voices telling him otherwise, despite his brain sometimes turning into an enemy. Despite all _shit_ that he had been dealing with, he had wanted to fight – he had _tried._

This was so out of place, so sudden. There had been no red flags. No hints, nothing. Everything had been _good,_ for fucks’ sake!

“Let’s get to him,” Shikamaru said. “He’s – he’s not done anything, right? You can sense him?”

“He is still with us,” Ino said. “Come on, let’s go.”

For how long had Shikadai been on the run? Inojin didn’t know. Shikadai had been sound asleep when he had gotten to bed, and six hours later he was gone. But he could have been gone for an hour. He could have been gone for five.

No one knew and Inojin cursed himself.

There had been no red flags.

Inojin wanted to believe he couldn’t have possible known.

“Inojin, get on a beast,” Sai said.

Inojin had tried to unlock his wings, and he could make them burst out of his back like the magnificent creations they were, but he couldn’t still fly. Or he hadn’t dared to try yet. The seals were still in the healing process.

Sai grabbed Inojin under his armpits. Time was running short, so they didn’t have time to let Inojin figure out how to move wings, tattoos and legs himself and Sai hauled him up, lifting him up on a beast he had painted while Shikamaru had his nervous breakdown.

They just couldn’t reach Shikadai too late. It was not an option.

Ino and Shikamaru used the second beast Sai had created for them, taking Inori with them on that bird, and they lifted to the air.

It wasn’t too early in the morning anymore, and Inojin remembered Yodo was still in their apartment. He lifted his hand in the activating sign, reaching for Chocho.

He found her mind, bright and happy. She was in the Hokage’s building, probably to await a mission for her genin team.

_Hey, Chocho! We got a Shikadai-emergency, I tell you later –_

Chocho must’ve realised what was going on, she must’ve heard how Inojin’s voice was trembling.

_Yodo is still at our house, would you please go and help her buy a train ticket home? I don’t think Shikadai can have her there right now…_

_Okay._ Chocho’s voice was almost crying because of the situation. _I’ll go and check on her. Keep him safe, please._

 _I’ll try,_ Inojin replied and shut the mind connection. Now Chocho at least knew, and could mentally prepare herself if… if…

He couldn’t finish the thought. It hurt way too much.

“We’re closing in on him,” Ino said. “He’s still here, we will make it. If he stays here for ten minutes, we will reach him in time. Just a few kilometres left!”

They had to make it. They _had to_ reach him in time. Inojin squeezed the neck of the bird he was riding harder, jaw shaking and tears already blurring his vision. He just couldn’t stand the thought. Couldn’t stand imagining Shikadai dead.

Shikamaru was already imagining a funeral in his head. He was stuck in the worst mind space of them all.

Shikadai was a beloved son and teammate and the love of Inojin’s life.

He was too young to die.

* * *

It was a complete mess inside Shikadai’s head, and everything hurt. He was crouching down, rocking from the heels to the pads of his feet, hugging himself, but every touch felt wrong and almost burning to him.

The new voice was so unfamiliar and so cruel.

And it commanded him to do awful things.

There was a civil war going on inside him, thoughts never getting finished and every time Shikadai tried to make sense out of anything to make a decision he got interrupted by the new voice.

He had a kunai in his hand, waiting to be used.

Shikadai had sat at this place for hours. Or it felt like hours. He just sat and rocked back and forth as if possessed, scared and unsure what to do. It was insufferable to listen to the voice, hearing what it wanted him to do.

The thought was horrifying. He didn’t want to die.

Yet the voice gave him no mercy. Screaming. Commanding. Telling him to just leave this world.

Shikadai bent forward and squeezed a few tears out. It was not supposed to end this way. He had given a promise. This was not supposed… to… _end…_

He sat down, leaned back until he reached the ground and stared right up at the sky, at the sun. Weird. The sun was up on the sky, shining bright. Where were the stars? He creased his brows, confused. There should be stars out during an occasion such as this. The sun should be gone, the stars should cover the sky. He stared up at the sun, questioning its and his own existence.

After what felt like an eternity, he lifted his arm, placed the knife by his wrist and closed his eyes.

* * *

“I see him!” Ino said and pointed at a body on the ground.

“Oh no,” Shikamaru whispered at the sight of Shikadai lying still on the ground. “Take the dog.”

He shuffled Inori over to Ino, who without a word strengthened her grip around the dog while Shikamaru jumped down. His knees almost buckler beneath him as he closed in on his son, who wasn’t moving.

Inojin stared at Shikadai and soon enough all he could see was the blood by Shikadai’s side and he scrunched his face together in a grimace of grief.

 _No, no, no, it can’t be true…!_ He had no idea he actually began to scream that audibly and he was numb to the touch when Sai hugged him hard from behind, both to offer support in this horrific moment and to literally keep Inojin from falling off the bird when he stopped using the chakra to keep his tattoos around the bird’s body.

Shikamaru stumbled over to Shikadai.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he said and pressing his arm under Shikadai’s shoulders to lift him into his lap. “Oh Shikadai, no…”

He didn’t dare to stare at the cut arm and at the red beside Shikadai’s body. He just looked down into Shikadai’s face, at the eyes moving slowly around under closed eyelids. He was still alive.

Shikadai opened his eyes, just barely, but enough for him to catch a glimpse of who it was holding him.

“Dad…” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” Shikamaru said as Ino crashed down beside Shikadai’s wounded arm.

She lifted it, examined the cut in it and threw a quick gaze at the blood around him.

“He won’t die,” she immediately said.

Before Ino moved permanently over to work in the security department of Konoha, she had worked a few years at the mental hospital Shikadai as well had stayed at during his worst. She had seen a lot, and thanks to her medical background, she knew exactly what was needed to die this way.

Shikadai had failed. He hadn’t reached the artery needed, which was deep inside the arm, but Ino couldn’t yet tell if he had permanently ruined his hand function. The cut should be cleaned and probably sewn together in a sterile area, but they were out in the wilderness and the blood kept running out of it, so Ino had to do quick actions.

He cupped her hand around the wound and let her medical chakra do its wonder. Closing veins and muscle was the speciality and area where medical chakra was at its most effective, and all veins shut themselves, trapping the blood where it was supposed to be. With her chakra she felt the tendons, and Shikadai had grazed them, but not cut them off.

She sighed out of relief. He would most likely be able to use his hand again. He might have lost feeling in his fingertips, but the motoric function seemed to have been saved.

Inori licked Shikadai in his face, like she was trained to do when she sensed he was in disruption and Shikadai twisted his face towards her. He was pale and his breathing was shallow, but he looked at her with alert eyes.

“You came…” he mumbled.

“Of course we came,” Shikamaru said, fighting against his tears. It had been so close, far too close. Shikadai had done a suicide attempt. “We’ll always come when you need us. Shikadai, please look at me. I love you and I am proud that you are looking back at me now. That’s all I need. I need to you look at me and stay here.”

Now Sai and Inojin had come up to them, Inojin on Sai’s back. He was already crying, and no one needed to think twice about which horrendous feelings there were inside his mind now.

“Sweetie,” Inojin said as Sai let him slide down to be by Shikadai’s side. It felt like the ground was swaying beneath him, breath closing in on hyperventilation. “Sweetie, I am here.”

He placed his hand on Shikadai’s cold cheek, cupping it. He wanted to lean down and kiss him, kiss life into him again, but didn’t dare. Shikadai focused on him, a tired smile on his lips.

“Inojin,” Shikadai said. “I’m sorry.” He took a purposeful breath, as if it would be his last. “I’m dizzy.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Inojin said as Shikadai closed his eyes. “No, no, no, look at us, please, don’t you dare close your eyes!”

Inojin’s voice cracked before he managed to finish the sentence. He could barely see anything through the tears in his eyes. _Be strong, be strong for him_. His fingers dug deeper into Shikadai’s skin.

“It said there was no hope… no hope left in the universe…” Shikadai whispered as a stray tear fell down his cheek through his closed eye. “It wasn’t me. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t me.”

There was a second of silence when no one understood what he was trying to say.

“We know it wasn’t you,” Inojin finally said. “You wouldn’t want this. It’s the illness inside you which does this to you.” After he had said that he regretted it. Telling someone who just tried to end his own life that he was sick was the last thing one should say. But it was a way to explain the situation to the rest of the company, if not to Shikadai. It felt natural to look for a scapegoat.

“It was put into me…” Shikadai got out. “They put it into me. I don’t know why, they just did it. Into my head. Brain.”

Ah. A delusion.

“He’s delusional,” Shikamaru said, though it was curious the focus of his delusion seemed to have changed. All the earlier times it had been tied to non-existing spies and Shikadai being convinced he was followed by spies who wanted to hurt Inojin. Shikamaru stared at the closed cut for a second before looking at Inojin. “Had he taken all his meds this week?”

“Yes,” Inojin said. “Everything has been fine. I think he had trouble sleeping this night, and he took sleeping medicine, but he wasn’t delusional and didn’t talk about any hallucinations at least. I didn’t know, I couldn’t have known… Why was I so ignorant? There had to be some signs…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ino said. “Relapses happen, sometimes even without a trigger.”

But do they happen even when the person in question takes all the medicines as prescribed? Had Inojin missed some vital clue to this action? Had Shikadai not taken everything, only hid them away?

“But he was doing so good,” Inojin said and dried the tear from Shikadai’s cheek. “I don’t know why this happened, I swear.”

“No one is blaming you,” Shikamaru said, eyes on his son, squeezing Shikadai a bit. Shikadai still didn’t move at all, but Ino was still working on his arm, and the fact they had a medical ninja there soothed Shikamaru.

Shikadai wasn’t going to die. He was just shocked and had probably scrambled thoughts, and that was the reason he couldn’t communicate properly.

“Oh no,” Shikadai said with his weak voice and everyone listened keenly. “Mirai will be so mad at me when she hears it… So mad…”

“Mirai will be so, so happy to hear you are still here with us,” Shikamaru said. “She will tell you how much she loves you and care for you. She wants you to be the best uncle for her little boy. I’m sure she will pay you a visit at the hospital too. You can hold little Asuya if you want. You see, Asuya wants to grow up with his best uncle by his side.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Shikadai whispered. “It wasn’t me. You have to believe me, it wasn’t me!”

“They only want to help you feel safe,” Shikamaru said. “You’ve been there before. It’s what’s best for you.”

“But it wasn’t me,” Shikadai repeated, now with more force. “They put it into me.”

No one knew what to say.

“Shikadai, you have to go,” Shikamaru finally said, being so shocked by everything he forgot that one should never invalidate a person’s eventual psychotic experience. “You have an illness which is doing this to you. I know you are scared, and you just survived a suicide attempt. We are going to bring you somewhere where you don’t have to be afraid anymore. We want you to be happy and you can find a little piece of that when you are somewhere you don’t have to be scared.”

“Mirai will hate me… we practised to much,” Shikadai sighed, turning his head to look at the closed cut in his arm. An ugly bruise was spreading, some blood having trickled out under the skin and he felt _resentment_.

“She won’t hate you, I promise you that,” Shikamaru said. “She won’t ever hate you.”

Inojin kept his eyes focused on Shikadai, thoughts flying in racer speed inside his head. Why did he focus so much on Mirai in this moment?

A thought occurred him.

“Is he talking about a genjutsu?”

Shikamaru whipped his head up and stared at Inojin.

“’They put it into me’,” Inojin repeated what Shikadai had said. “’It wasn’t me’ and the fact that Mirai would be mad at him… Does he mean she’d be mad he couldn’t repel a genjutsu?”

When Shikadai was younger Mirai often practised her genjutsu on him, teaching him how to know when one is under the influence of a genjutsu and what to do to save oneself from that trap.

“Inojin…” Shikadai said, twisting his head to look straight into Inojin’s eyes. “I don’t want to die.”

Those words almost broke Inojin’s heart.

“I know,” he whispered back, snivelling to avoid having snot run down his face. He squeezed Shikadai’s healthy hand. “You won’t die. I promise you; you are not dying.”

Shikadai closed his eyes again, and this time the company surrounding him felt almost like exhaling out of relief. A lifeline to hold onto, a will to live inside Shikadai. Those words were like music to the ears of the company.

“Shikadai,” Shikamaru said, waiting for him to open his eyes and look up at him again. He wanted his full attention and be sure Shikadai was listening. Eyelids cracked open and Shikamaru could look down into the eyes he never wanted to lose the light in them. “Did someone put you under a genjutsu which commanded you to end your own life?”

Shikadai made a grunting noise.

“I’m freezing,” he said.

“We’re going to the warm hospital soon,” Shikamaru said. “Can you please answer my question?”

He knew Shikadai was having trouble knowing what was real and what wasn’t as it was, and he was still lying limply in Shikamaru’s lap, but it was important to know. There was a precious line of being too much and knowing when to press Shikadai to talk and when to give him time to focus on his thoughts, and Shikamaru couldn’t bear to be patient.

“She put it into me,” Shikadai said. “The new voice. It’s still talking, but more faded – “

Shikamaru pressed two fingers against Shikadai’s forehead, which shut Shikadai up.

“Release,” he said and Shikadai blinked. He took a deep breath of what appeared to be relief. Shikamaru licked his lips. “I think he was right… someone put a genjutsu on him.”

Ino took a quick look into Shikadai’s mind, into the darkness surrounding and protecting his thoughts and the depth of his struggling mind. She found the faults in his brain, but there was no time to do the long and tedious correction jutsu which she had done years ago on him in Kumo. He didn’t appear to be in a psychosis, but he was far, _far,_ from okay.

“I think…” Ino said, struggling to find the correct words. “I think that, if it was a genjutsu, it was designed to imitate his own symptoms, so he wouldn’t be able to recognise the difference between his own illness and an outer genjutsu.”

“That is torture,” slipped out of Shikamaru. He hugged Shikadai – his son, his boy – hard. This was so unfair, so cruel.

He another centimetre of depth into his flesh and the vital artery would be flashed and then he would be beyond saving.

Inojin squeezed Shikadai’s healthy hand and Inori was sitting beside Shikadai, having her snout leaning against his neck.

“We should get him to the hospital,” Ino said.

“I don’t want to,” Shikadai whispered.

“Everything will be okay, sweetie,” Inojin said or rather lied.

“It was Yodo,” Shikadai finally croaked out and Inojin’s blood ran cold.

“What?”

“She… gave me the knife,” Shikadai said. “Don’t know what she did. I think… she put it into me. The voice. I am dizzy, don’t wanna look.”

“Yodo?” Shikamaru asked.

What Shikadai said could have been true. It could have been Shikadai’s hallucinations. For the company surrounding him, it was impossible to tell if Shikadai was telling the truth or if he lived in his own world where he saw and felt things not happening. He could have hallucinated Yodo giving him the knife as he himself took it out of the kitchen shelf.

“Oh no,” Inojin said. “Yodo is at our place.”

“What?” Shikamaru breathed.

“Yodo came late yesterday, because she had run away from home,” Inojin explained. “She is gay like us and her parents are homophobic, so she ran away and came to us because she knew we would understand. We drank tea yesterday and had a generally okay time and she slept on our sofa and – “

He stared into the horizon.

“I asked Chocho to go there and check in on her,” he said. “I – I sent Chocho to her.”

“You think Chocho will be in danger?” Ino asked.

“I don’t know, Yodo was so nice yesterday, I wouldn’t have ever guessed,” Inojin spluttered out. He wasn’t soon able to think straight anymore, having Shikadai wounded and confused in front of him and Yodo back at their home with Inori alone and Chocho going to check on her –

“We need to make sure Chocho doesn’t reach Yodo alone,” Ino said.

Sai turned to her, taking over the role as the sensible one when Shikamaru was incapable of taking said role with Shikadai in his lap.

“She is a Jonin by now,” he said, trying to sound calm and collected. He had stood by the side when the rest had worked with Shikadai, purposely not invented. Ino had closed the cut in his arm and Inojin and Shikamaru had talked and calmed Shikadai down. “She is more than capable of dealing with an enemy. I was on the board recommending her and I passed her simulation mission.”

“Yodo is also a Jonin,” Inojin said. “She told me that.”

Shikamaru pinched his lips together.

“Ino, Sai, go and see if Chocho needs backup,” he said. “Arrest Yodo and bring her to T&I to ask her what had been going on while Inojin was asleep.” He turned to Inojin. “Come with me and Shikadai to the hospital. I think he needs your support now.”

Inojin nodded.

“Yes.” He looked down at the love of his life, stroking Shikadai’s cheek. Shikadai looked back and there was a tiny smile on his lips, a smile that came through the nausea and light-headedness he had from the blood loss, which luckily wasn’t lethal.

The smile communicated one thing to Inojin, and he let his own mind brush over Shikadai’s thoughts, where he got the meaning behind the smile confirmed. Shikadai’s thoughts were covered in shame, the deepest shame there ever is, but through all that guilt, contempt and remorse, another thought came through.

_I am glad I failed._

Karui and Choji had an off day from work and had decided to spend that day doing a more thorough cleaning of their house. Chowi’s fur, not to speak of long strands of human hair from any of the three family members, since all of them had long hair, were everywhere and the house had been looking like a small disaster for a week now, none of them prepared to attack the mess just yet.

Today was the day they brought out all the trash, cleaned all the surfaces and vacuum cleaned.

Chocho was out at work. They didn’t know what mission she had gotten, but she had strutted happily to the Hokage’s building early that morning to get to know if there was something ready for her. Chowi, the dog, was following Karui around the house, watching her steps and trying to calculate if the cleaning meant that guests were coming the same day.

“I’ll just get the trash,” Karui laughed to the dog as she opened the door to the second toilet in their home, the one Chocho had claimed as her own, since it was opposite of her room.

Karui opened the trash can and lifted the transparent trash bag out of it, ready to put a knot on the opening to bring it outside.

Through the plastic she saw something that was awfully similar to a pregnant test and that caught her interest.

Were… Chocho and Mitsuki trying for a baby?

Karui opened the trash bag and dug her hand after the pregnancy test.

It was negative.

Then she saw multiple of them.

“What…?” she whispered and took out them, dug through the trash like a raccoon dog, and fished all together thirteen pregnancy tests.

Since Chocho had periods so irregularly, it could take some time to fill the trash bag, since it never became filled with used pads once a month, meaning it was hard to know over how long of a time period these tests had been collected into the trash. It could have been three months or more of peeing on sticks and throwing them into the trash before it was filled.

Karui looked at each of them.

Negative.

Negative.

Negative.

And then her blood ran cold, as she saw two lines on one of the sticks.

Two lines meant pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of the chapter:
> 
> Yodo appears at Inojin and Shikadai's home. She tells them she was kicked out by her parents because of her sexuality and they let her stay the night. During the night Shikadai disappears and Inojin finds a suicide note. He calls on Ino, who calls Shikamaru and together they find Shikadai. During this time Inojin sends Chocho to send Yodo home again. Shikadai failed the attempt, and is awake, but light-headed and in pain. He talks nonsense, such as "It wasn't me" and they realise he is talking about a genjutsu. He claims Yodo put him under a genjutsu which commanded him to take his life. Inojin begins fearing for Chocho, who is now going to Yodo. Karui is at home cleaning out the toilet and finds Chocho's used pregnancy tests. One of them is positive.
> 
> So.... Chocho is pregnant? And Inojin sent her to Yodo? Who... might be evil? Is Shikadai just delusional or did Yodo this?


	12. The longest day on earth

“I don’t want to go,” Shikadai said. He was now sitting up, not dependent on leaning against something. He complained about feeling nauseous, but he had managed to collects thought enough to not speak in three word sentences anymore. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

“We need to check your cut,” Shikamaru explained patiently. He managed to keep all his own emotions deep buried beneath a surface of steel, completely focused on keeping his son calm and safe. He didn’t allow himself to break down into the shaky mess he would turn into when his mind caught up to what had happened. Shikadai had attempted suicide. He could’ve been a childless father by now.

Shikamaru stroked Shikadai’s loose hair out of his face. It had stuck to his wet cheeks, trailing his pale skin with dark locks.

“And you must get the emergency counselling.”

Shikadai seemed to think hard.

“I hate this,” he finally snarled. “I don’t know how to find it. I have failed. I have failed at finding it.”

“Find what?” Inojin asked.

“A reason to… Hope… I don’t know… I feel like I am trapped. Rock bottom. Hate this,” Shikadai mumbled.

He smashed a healthy fist down in the grass, earned a gasp from both Inojin and Shikamaru, and looked at the puddle of blood that has trickled into the soil.

“Why did this happen?” he asked, fingers of his healthy hand grabbing grass and ripping it out of the ground. When he had sorted out his following thoughts – which undoubtedly were still hard to get a focus of, giving his usual scrambled thought symptoms, he blurted out another explanation to his foul mood. “I wanted years before having to go back. Years. I was there during the winter and I hate the fact that I have to go back. I thought I was okay again…” He looked up at the shining sun. “Why did I…? I don’t _want_ to die, but it felt like… it felt like I had to.” He was silent for a while before finally muttering, “Obsession.”

“Is the voice gone now?” Shikamaru asked.

Shikadai shrugged.

“Hard to think,” he just replied.

“Shikadai…” Shikamaru said. “Please, come with me. You will be safe. All I want for you is to be safe, and right now, you might not be. You might feel better now, but if these feelings – that obsession – come rapidly back, we need you somewhere where you can be safe from yourself.”

Shikadai took a few seconds to mull over that, as his face scrunched together, and tears escaped his waterline.

“I am dangerous,” he whispered. “To myself.”

Both Inojin and Shikamaru held him, Shikamaru around his non-wounded wrist to keep him from ripping more grass, and Inojin leaned against him. Inori stepped up and placed both her front paws on Shikadai’s chest, and that finally prompted him to look up again.

“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m sorry for… I didn’t know what to do, I just wanted to be free from everything. I thought I was doing the right thing.” He looked at Inori. “I’m sorry I’m the worst owner ever.”

“Everything will be fine,” Shikamaru finally said. “Please come with me.”

“It wasn’t my own will,” Shikadai said. “I was being controlled. It said I should die. But it was so weird, the sun was up on the sky, it wasn’t like it should. But it wasn’t me, I swear.”

Shikamaru smiled a weary smile to him and finally helped him stand.

They both glanced at Inojin, still sitting on the ground, unable to get up. His wheelchair was in a sealing scroll.

“Can you fly us on a bird to the hospital?” Shikamaru asked. Inojin nodded.

“Shikadai, I promise, everything will be alright,” he assured from the ground, feeling a bit pathetic being so small compared to Shikamaru and Shikadai when they were standing. Shikadai was as tall as Shikamaru now that he had reached his adult size.

Shikadai sent him a desperate look.

“How can you say so?”

“Because we are together,” Inojin said. Shikadai detached himself from Shikamaru and crouched down. He leant down even further, so their foreheads touched. “And together we are unstoppable, just like you’ve told me so many times before. Together we will find hope in this universe.”

Yodo sat in the sofa, zapping through the tv-channels when Chocho opened the door. She had a spare key to Shikadai and Inojin’s apartment and gently pulled the door open.

“Hello,” she said when she found Yodo, nestled under one of the blankets in Shikadai and Inojin’s sofa. There were multiple used teabags placed directly on the tv table, something Chocho knew would give Shikadai a fit if he would see Yodo placed wet teabags on the wood. She almost wanted to smile at the memory of herself placing a dirty knife on the table, which had the reaction of Shikadai smashing his palm down the table, staring at Chocho, while yelling with the most _perfect_ accompanying voice crack:

_“This is_ oak _tree, Chocho!”_

Chocho couldn’t smile at the memory, even if she wanted. What if Shikadai, as she walked into his living room, remained as a memory in this world?

“Hi,” Yodo replied. She swallowed. “I don’t know what happened – Shikadai had gone out in the middle of the night while I was asleep, I didn’t wake up to it and then Inojin began yelling in panic when he woke up. He was crying. Are they coming back?”

Chocho pulled out a chair from under the dinner table to sit down on it. She wasn’t that familiar with Yodo and she felt wary to sit right beside her in the sofa. It was odd. Chocho would’ve loved to sit there, but something inside her said not to.

“Did Shikadai tell you about the struggles he has?” Chocho asked.

“He said in Suna he had a mental health problem,” Yodo said. “He didn’t want to talk about specifics.” She shrugged.

Chocho sighed, deciding to that Yodo deserved to know what was really going on.

“He has a psychotic disorder and panic disorders,” she said. “He hallucinates sometimes. Most of the time he hears voices on-off. Sometimes he has trouble forming thoughts and can’t talk fluently. If it gets bad, he becomes delusional and believes in things that aren’t true, and when it’s really bad he ends up in a psychosis and loses touch of reality. The symptoms fluctuate a lot, and when he feels good, he is not affected by symptoms at all, for longer periods, too. He is a good guy, really. Don’t let this knowledge change on how you see him.”

Yodo wrinkled her forehead, thinking hard.

“He went to sleep early yesterday, and I didn’t talk to him almost at all. Inojin said it stressed him out to have guests, so I made sure to be as quiet as possible.” She stared down at the teabags on the coffee table. “I wonder if this has something to do with me.”

Chocho swallowed.

“I don’t know,” she said in honesty. “It might be. Your arrival probably messed with him. You should not blame yourself. This can happen sometimes even when there is seemingly nothing wrong. It’s a tricky illness.”

Inojin had sounded in total panic when he had called her. Chocho swallowed once again. She hadn’t ever heard him so scared. When Shikadai had had his previous relapse, when he had run away and hid behind his parents’ house, Inojin had obviously been upset and scarred, but he had remained calm when discussing with Chocho. The echo in his voice then had been the total opposite to what she had heard a while ago, with Inojin’s voice almost ripping apart by fear.

She could imagine what Shikadai had attempted.

She didn’t want to think it.

“Inojin asked me to help you buy a train ticket home,” Chocho said instead. “I heard you had no money.” She reached up her hand and flashed a ticket. “I bought one for you on my way here. There was a ticket machine by the main market near the station. I got a ticket for the train leaving in just fifteen minutes, so you better get going to the station.” She took a deep breath, unsure what to think. “I thought the less time you have to sit here, rolling your thumbs, the better. Look. I am really sorry your visit here took such a sad turn. I understand you came here in search for comfort, and I wish I could give it to you, but as things are now, we have to focus on Shikadai being safe.”

“What do you think happened?” Yodo asked. “With him.”

Chocho bit her lip.

“I hope nothing bad,” she said.

“I hope so too,” Yodo said and sat up. She had her bag already packed and when she moved past Chocho she snatched the ticket out of her hand. “Thank you for the ticket.”

“Hopefully everything is okay when you return home,” Chocho said. “With your parents and everything.”

Yodo opened the door and stared in front of her, into the darkness of the stairwell outside Shikadai and Inojin’s apartment.

“I don’t think my relationship with my parents can ever be mended,” she said and stepped out. “They ruined it. They’ve ruined everything.”

She disappeared into the darkness.

Shikadai didn’t want to look at the grotesque cut in his arm when it was cleaned and wrapped in bandage at the emergency room at the psychiatric hospital. The nurse was calm and professional when she, without sounding judging nor blaming, touched different parts of his hand to ask if he still had feeling in it. For Inojin, who was there too, the situation reminded him too much of when he himself had to close his eyes and say when he felt something when a doctor touched different parts of his legs. “ _Are you even touching me?”_ he had asked. _“He is touching your foot right now,”_ Ino had replied and Inojin had wanted to scream.

Shikadai closed his eyes, saying _yes, yes, yes_ when the nurse touched his palm. She pressed the edge of the pin she had in her hand against his fingertip and everyone saw how Shikadai pressed his lips together.

“Numb,” he whispered. He opened his eyes and pressed on the fingertips with his other hand and stared at them. “It’s numb…”

“I’ll schedule physiotherapy for your hand when you are more stable,” the nurse said. “The feeling might come back if you are lucky.”

Shikadai didn’t even nod, just stared at his fingertips.

Inojin wanted to reach out and stroke Shikadai on his shoulder, but he was too far away and instead his hand trailed the line where his own sensation stopped. This brought back memories. He remembered being so persistent in physiotherapy. _I’ll be walking in no time._ Yet, no feeling came back, and soon enough he had to realise that… he really was paralysed. Even with the limited feeling in his thighs and hips.

Oh, how he wished Shikadai wouldn’t have to come to the same realisation. He wished Shikadai would get his sensation back.

Shikadai looked up at the nurse, before avoiding her gaze. He didn’t want to meet her eyes.

It was excruciating to have someone touch around the cut, to know someone else was looking at, looking at what could have killed him. Having someone touch his hand to assess how much damage his nerves and tendons had gotten.

“I don’t want to…” he whined when he was ready. “I don’t want to stay here.”

“Does it hurt when you squeeze your hand?” the nurse asked. Shikadai nodded, not looking at her. The nurse showed him a warm smile. “We are proud of you that you are still here.”

“I didn’t want to die,” Shikadai said as an argument. “I was being controlled.”

The nurse sighed, and threw a look at him, a look which clearly said that she wasn’t believing a single word he said. _No one needs to listen to a psychotic boy._ Shikamaru, who had also stayed in the room with Shikadai, chose to chip in.

“There is a chance he was controlled by a genjutsu,” he said. “He can’t just communicate properly right now because his thoughts are scrambled.”

“The psychiatrist will assign two nights stay here and then there is a re-evaluation to see if he’s healthy enough or if he needs to stay for the two weeks” the nurse said. “Just for us to make sure he is safe from himself and for him to recharge and not think of anything but himself.” The nurse lowered her voice, clearly talking only to Shikamaru despite the other two boys in the room. “Even if it was a genjutsu he was being controlled by, it’s for the best to keep him under watch.”

Shikamaru patted Shikadai on his shoulder.

“It’s only for two nights,” he said. “Then, if everything feels better, you can come home, and we’ll get up and find happiness again.”

Shikadai nodded.

“I’ll… just do whatever you want,” he whispered. “Anything. I don’t want to be here for long. I want to be home.”

He and Inojin hugged a long time before it was time for Inojin and Shikamaru to leave. Shikadai sat in a chair, leaning the back of his head against the wall, eyes red and puffy, but he seemed to have come to a consensus with himself to stay here to rest up for the next days after the overwhelming and scary experience.

He was allowed to call Inojin during the time of the day that was phone-time. He didn’t have to be isolated from the outside world this time around, which was a huge part of what made him consent to staying at the ward over the next few days. And on day three, the psychiatrist would evaluate again if he could leave or if he needed to stay for longer.

Inojin kissed Shikadai’s forehead, whispered _I love you, my sweetheart_ and wheeled out of the common area, through the doors which locked behind him and Shikamaru. Locked Shikadai in.

All hearts felt so heavy. No, more. They felt broken.

“You let her go?” Ino couldn’t stop herself from yelling. She and Sai had busted into Inojin and Shikadai’s apartment just in time for Chocho to have put all the teabags Yodo had left after her in the trash and having rolled the bedsheets they had put in the sofa for Yoda to sleep in into a neat bundle to put in the laundry basket.

Chocho had worked on auto pilot, wanting to distract her from thinking of Shikadai’s fate and in this moment, cleaning the apartment had felt like a natural thing to do. Shikadai would freak out if he knew of the teabags on his beloved _oak tree table_ (because yes, Shikadai had turned into a grumpy old man who protects his furniture) and Chocho had felt like saving him from that heart attack.

“What are you…?” Chocho asked, the awful feeling of anxiety being carved inside of her stomach. She had done something wrong. Something terribly wrong.

“There is a chance Yodo had cast a genjutsu on Shikadai, which commanded him to attempt – “

Chocho’s stare shut Ino up.

“Did he… did he…?” she whimpered. “How is he? Please, tell me you saved him!”

“He is saved,” Ino replied quickly. “Don’t worry. He has been brought to the hospital. Inojin and Shikamaru are with him.”

“What condition?”

“Stable and conscious. He is talking and aware of the situation.”

“Why would Yodo want to do that?” Chocho asked. “Why – I – I talked to her and she seemed so nice and he had _waited_ here. If she tried to assassin him, why would she stay here and just… not do anything?”

Chocho shut herself up, thoughts racing inside her head as the potential scenario unfolded for her. “Was is to make herself seem innocent? To remain here would be death sentence, unless it would work in her favour. Because… because Shikadai would never be trusted.”

The thought, that awful reality hit her like a brick in her face.

If Shikadai would try to explain he was under a genjutsu, no one would believe him, given his medical history. Everyone would brush it off as a psychosis. No one would take a mentally ill young adult seriously, not after said person had attempted to take his own life. And if Yodo would behave like everything but guilty, including staying in their apartment, seemingly confused and worried, no one would believe in Shikadai’s accusations.

He would be all alone with the truth, with no one believing him, only telling him he is insane.

“If it was a genjutsu…,” Ino began. The famous ‘if’. Because no one could really know for real if he was right. No one could yet know if he had hallucinated or not. “We think the genjutsu was designed to simulate his symptoms as much as possible, making it impossible for him to identify it before it was too late,” Ino finished, taking a deep breath. She had already decided whose side she was on. “And for his sake, we have to believe in him.”

“Oh no,” Chocho said. “I didn’t know, oh my god, how naïve was I?” The latter half came out as a yell, as her voice let out her frustration.

The train Chocho had bought a ticket to had left a minute ago.

“Stay here,” Chocho said. “I’ll make up for this. I’ll bring her back here so we can talk, no matter what.”

“Don’t do anything hasty now,” Sai began and reached out his hand to grab Chocho when he realised what she was attempting to do, but he was a microsecond too late and Chocho’s arm turned into thin air and a cloud of smoke.

Now that she had undergone regius training to become Jonin she had also learned to shunshin.

A person cannot shunshin to a place they have never been to before, and the magic behind the act had its limits, but if Chocho managed to get behind the train on the track, she had a good chance to climb onto it and take Yodo from inside the train car. If she managed to shunshin that close to the train. She might have to run for long before she does.

“Shit!” Ino hissed when Sai’s arm flung through the air, and there was no Chocho to be grabbed. “Why will no one listen? Darn teenager who can’t think!”

Sai stared at the thin, where Chocho had been standing mere seconds before.

“She’s a soldier,” he said. “She can make her own decision.”

“I can’t deal with more wounded children now,” Ino said. She quickly decided to not chase after Chocho. Someone had to be at home with Inojin – poor boy who had to wake up with a suicide note where his partner would’ve been, and they still didn’t know what had happened. They trusted Chocho could bring Yodo back home.

The day had been traumatic as it was, having saved Shikadai when life was bleeding out of him and Ino didn’t have the energy to chase after Chocho. They double checked the apartment instead, searching for lingering genjutsu, but found none.

_Hey, Shikadai is now safe,_ Inojin called into Ino’s head. _Where are you? I’d like to –_

He didn’t have to say much more for Ino to grasp the need he had to be hugged and to have someone to talk to.

His partner had almost died in his lap and that was nothing to take lightly.

_We’re at your place,_ she said, deciding to not burden Inojin with the news about Chocho. _Stay where you are, we’ll come and get you. How are you holding up?_

_I think I might break down and cry any second now, but, um, yeah. Can you please come?_

_We’re coming. Is Shikamaru there with you?_

_He went home to call Temari, I think._

_Okay. We’re coming._

They met Inojin a few blocks away from the psych hospital, where he broke down into tears in Ino’s arms.

When the news reached Karui and Choji, the first thing they did was staying out of the way, to let their friends breathe out and get themselves back on track after the scarring experience. Since Shikamaru was alone, Choji decided to pay him a visit, to have a cup of tea with him.

They sat in the kitchen of the Nara household. Shikamaru was staring down in his tea, occasionally swallowing.

Choji could see his Adam’s apple move up and down, without bringing any drink with it down. This was Shikamaru trying to hold tears inside.

“You know…” Shikamaru said. “Back when they were fourteen and the whole mess in Kumo happened… I really thought it would be a one time happening. That he was going to never have to experience anything like that again after he came home and got medication. And for a few months it seemed like it.”

He held the cup hard in his hands. Choji just listened.

“And then his mental health began deteriorating for real,” Shikamaru continued. “When he was fifteen. The panic attacks… The anxiety… It was a nightmare for him. And his first relapse…” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, now damn close to crying again. “He stayed at the hospital for so long. Almost fifty days. Those days were torture for Temari and I. And we began fearing that we had to talk about the risks of suicide for real. And we did. We’ve talked with him about it. We’ve gotten all the help. It’s has been ups and downs.” He looked up at the ceiling, swallowing again. The Adam’s apple bounced up and down his throat, once, twice. “And at some point, we believed we would make it. That this would never ever happen. That there wouldn’t be a day remembered as the day we almost lost our child…”

“I am so sorry,” Choji said. “I really am. I didn’t believe a day such as this would ever come either.” He looked down, fumbled for words. “Thank heavens you made it in time. Really. Does Temari know?”

“No,” Shikamaru said. “I… haven’t felt like calling her. What can I say? That we almost lost Shikadai today, when she is in Suna trying to help him from there. That is torture, to burden a mother with that knowledge. I… want to breathe a little while before telling her. Oh god, she’ll be so mad at me.”

Choji smiled gently to his friend.

“It wasn’t your fault. This was not your fault, Shikamaru. And I know Temari can be scary, but she is now six hundred kilometres away from us,” he said. “Call her. No matter how painful the news are, you are only doing a disservice to yourself and her the longer you postpone the call. Imagine if you knew Temari held an acute secret from you for hours longer than needed. Wouldn’t you’ve wanted to know?”

“Ignorance is a bliss,” Shikamaru muttered and Choji gave him a meaningful gaze. “Fine. Fine. I’ll do it.”

He got up and dragged his feet after him when he went over to the phone by the mirror in the hall. He bit his lip before pressing the number to the telephone exchange central, which could connect him to the Sunese phone central, and from there to the private phone in Gaara’s house.

It took an oddly long time for anyone to answer, and Shikamaru almost clicked the call off when someone answered.

“Kazekage’s residence, state your business.”

Cutting down all unnecessaries as always, Gaara was to the point when answering.

“Hello, Shikamaru here,” Shikamaru said. “Any news from Temari?” His voice was shivering. “I have something I need to talk to her about.”

“Yes…” Gaara mumbled. It was unusual for him to sound so unsure. “Temari has also something to tell you.”

“Did you find the Nameless One?” Shikamaru asked, voice almost on the verge of a mix of relief and excitement. Choji quirked his eyebrows up in interest but didn’t interfere.

“No,” Gaara said. “Someone else. And… Temari is upset. Something happened to her.”

“Is she injured?” Shikamaru almost interrupted his brother-in-law. This day took a new horrifying turn. His fingers ran trough his beard, almost shaking.

“No, no,” Gaara said. “She’s just terribly upset. We have a lead on who the Nameless One is, or was, or which family they operate with. Um, listen… what happened to her.” He lowered his voice. “She was taken this night while we slept. The woman who managed to overthrow her tried to – tried to sterilize her.”

Shikamaru blinked. First Shikadai, then Temari. Or the other way around. Same night, different countries.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Gaara said. “She’s not physically wounded, just scarred. I can ask her to come to the phone if you want.”

“Is she okay?” Shikamaru’s voice came out as a faint whisper.

“Physically yes,” Gaara stated. “You can talk to her if you want.”

Shikamaru nodded, though Gaara couldn’t see through the phone. A long minute later Temari came to the phone.

“Shikamaru…” she whispered in the phone. He had never heard her sound so small, so scared. “I was so scared.”

Shikamaru swallowed, his jaw shaking and a lone tear escaping his waterline.

“You are safe now,” he said, hoping that would be true. She was in Suna, he was here, they had a desert, a mountain range, a giant savannah and a lush forest between them. “I am so sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

Temari let out a shuddering breath.

“I’m scared for him,” she said. “Shikadai. These people are so cruel… they only see him as a product of madness… Oh god…” She placed away the phone from her face, probably to muffle a sob and Shikamaru’s jaw was shaking like never before.

“Tem…” he whispered in the phone. “I’d like you to come home as soon as possible.”

“Is he okay?” Temari asked. “Please, tell me my boy is okay.”

There was a silence a second too long.

“Shikamaru!” Temari snarled in the phone. “Is Shikadai safe?”

“He’s in the psych ward again,” Shikamaru finally said, the words hurting like poison on his tongue. “He is safe there.”

“What happened?” Temari asked without a second to spare. “Are Inojin and Chocho okay?”

“Yes, at least physically,” Shikamaru said. His throat tightened and the following words came out as a sob. “He attempted suicide.”

This was the worst phone call of his life. And then, after talking for an eternity about Shikadai’s wellbeing Shikamaru told her about the suspected genjutsu. They knew Chocho had gone after Yodo and no one had followed her. As a Jonin, Chocho had everyone’s faith to manage, and they hadn’t any proof Shikadai was right either. They were going to wait for Chocho to bring Yodo back, fully trusting her abilities to manage.

“Apparently Yodo has cast it over him,” Shikamaru said. “I wonder why – “

“Yodo?” Temari asked, voice hard and cold. “What the fresh hell is she doing there?”

“She had come to them yesterday, quite late at the evening,” Shikamaru said. “She stayed overnight at Shikadai’s place. Whatever we could make sense out of Shikadai’s scrambled explanations, it seems like she had cast it over him during the night.”

“You need to find Yodo and arrest her!” Temari spat. “Now! The person who tried to assault me is Yodo’s mother. I’ve got her head, I killed her. This family is part of something evil behind the scenes, and we need to get that girl caught.”

Shikamaru strengthened his grip around the telephone.

“Oh no…” he whispered. He turned towards Choji. “Choji! We need to send backup to Chocho. Yodo might be dangerous for real.”

Choji turned white in the face. He stood up, mouth open.

“Remember the Nameless One we were afraid would want to hurt Temari or Shikadai?” Shikamaru hissed. “Well, apparently Yodo is affiliated with them.”

Choji nodded, trying his hardest to not stress over the thought of Chocho being in some sort of real danger.

Bringing back a friend or even a reluctant friend was okay. She was a Jonin, she was strong.

Bringing back a powerful enemy, which could possess, beyond her main jutsu, skills to forge dangerous genjutsus, was not okay.

Not when Chocho might carry a baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's poor Shikamaru-hours, isnt't it, with his family falling apart around him.
> 
> Soon we're reaching the climax here!


	13. Please, believe me

Chocho looked through the entire train.

After running after the train for five hours (yes, her legs were so sore, and she wished she could collapse at the spot) she managed to catch up to it when it had to slow down in a curve. There were a few places along the rail tracks where the terrain became more dangerous, such as when moving along the mountain path separating the desert from the savannah north of Wind Country. There were a few mountains in between Konoha and the beginning of the desert in the south west, and since the train track between Suna and Konoha was the first to be built on the continent, they hadn’t had the skills to make the tracks _that_ good.

It meant the train had to slow down on a few occasions.

Rushing through the train, her heart sank at one point in her chest as she feared she might have the wrong train, or that Yodo had already jumped out of the window and left the entire train just to fool anyone trying to follow her.

Chocho found her in the final train car she was checking. Yodo was sitting arrogantly, with her feet and army boots up on the opposite empty bench, hood covering her head and ear plugs inside her ears. She was listening to music and Chocho could hear the beat of drums through the headphones.

Yodo didn’t even look at Chocho when she sat on the opposite bench. When Yodo didn’t acknowledge her, Chocho grabbed the shin of one of her legs.

“If I expand my fist, I could crush your leg”, she said. “A good grip and your tibia would shatter between my fingers.”

Yodo looked up at her, face completely calm.

“Why did you come?” she asked.

“Well, guess why I came”, Chocho snarled.

Yodo resumed to look through the window.

“I assume you’ve become a better fighter since your chunin fight”, she said.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard the story of when I was up in my other country, Kumo, and fought a leader of a rebel gang”, Chocho continued, keeping her eyes steady on Yodo’s calm face. “I killed her with my own hands. I grabbed her neck and I crushed it. I crushed her throat, her spine. It felt horrible when I did it. I will never forget the feeling of something that at first was firm, rigid, part of a living human turning into mush in my hands.”

They were both silent. Yodo stared out of the window, looking at the changing scenery. The savannahs were switched to the desert now. Soon they’ll get down the biggest mountain range, into the gold sea of sand. Three hours and they’ll reach Suna.

“You wouldn’t ever manage to do that”, Chocho said. “You wouldn’t be able to look someone in the eyes as you kill them.”

That was what prompted Yodo to look at Chocho again. Her blue-green eyes pierced Chocho’s yellow, and her mouth turned into a thin line.

“Tssk. What makes you think that?” she asked.

Chocho squeezed at Yodo’s shin a bit, just as a gentle threat. _I will break your leg if you’re not behaving._

“If you use such unfair method as casting a genjutsu on a person, commanding them to hurt themselves, you can’t be considered anything but a coward”, Chocho said. “Kicking a dog already lying. I told you of Shikadai’s struggles. You probably knew of them from before. And still – ”

“What makes you think I cast a genjutsu on him?” Yodo asked. “He walked himself out of his flat. No one forced him to. Whatever happened to him was his own doing.”

Chocho swallowed. There was a possibility Shikadai was wrong and Yodo right. But the way Yodo's voice had changed, the way a cold hostility entered made Chocho question her innocence.

“Are you lying?” Chocho asked.

“If I really did try to hurt him”, Yodo mused, “why would I stay in their house? Why would I endanger myself by letting you threaten to crush my leg?”

Chocho licked her lips.

“Because that would make you seem innocent”, she said. “It would make Shikadai seem insane. It would make no one believe in him.”

Yodo snorted and her lips curved into a thin smile.

“What a masterplan”, she said and resumed to stare out of the window. Chocho grew impatient. How could Yodo be so arrogant, so unaffected by the fact that a young person could have died.

“The fact that you exploited their sexuality is unforgivable”, Chocho said. “You used them. You used their kindness and understanding, you user their identity –“

“That wasn’t a lie”, Yodo said, voice biting. “That part is true.” She glance quickly over Chocho, at the hand still surrounding her shin. “I would never lie about something like that. I have some standards, you know. I would never exploit someone’s identity like that.”

“What did you do then?” Chocho snarled.

“Let’s play a game”, Yodo said. “If I, perhaps, would have cast a genjutsu on Shikadai, why would you think I’d do it?”

“You tell me”, Chocho said, strengthening her grip around Yodo’s leg. “He survived, I might tell you.” She studied the way the corner of Yodo’s mouth twitched, how even the faintest crease between her brows emerged. “Whatever your plan was, or what you would gain from his death won’t be reached. He is alive, because your silly little genjutsu was not enough to break his spirit.”

Yodo looked away.

“I’m glad he’s alive”, she said and Chocho stared at her, lightening her grip around the leg.

“Are you joking with me?” she asked.

“No”, Yodo answered. “Did you get a ticket yourself or not? They check the tickets right before the border. There is a border post where they leave passengers travelling without a valid ticket. They kick them out and then they have to pay a hefty fee to get home again.”

“As if I did”, Chocho said. “I ran all the way to catch up with the train. And now I crave chips, I am hungry, and I feel pissed off. And one of my best friends could have been dead by now and _fuck you,_ now you tell me the damn truth, did you attempt to murder Shikadai by casting a genjutsu on him made to imitate his illness? A genjutsu which commanded him to kill himself?”

It was true. Chocho was angry, cranky and feeling hormonal in a way she hadn’t felt before, a reason for her ugly language. Soon she’d burst into tears.

Yodo looked at her, right at Chocho’s scrunched nose and eyes with a sharp glimmer of anger inside them.

“My speciality is a carefully cultivated sound jutsu”, she said. “I know almost noting about casting genjutsus.”

“Tell me your parents’ jutsu”, Chocho commanded. “Tell me or I’ll crush your leg.”

“My mum works with sound, just like me”, Yodo said. “Her hearing is from another realm and it passed onto me. We can hear an unborn baby’s heartbeat just by standing close to a mother-to-be.” Yodo’s gaze fell on Chocho’s stomach and Chocho put her hand above it. Yodo smirked. “You should be careful of your little seed, there.”

“Shut up”, Chocho snarled.

“My mum’s speciality is making specific sound waves attack the sense of balance”, Yodo continued. “I pity anyone who falls under her spell. It’s a very nasty way to lose control over one’s own body.”

“And your dad”, Chocho said. “What is your dad’s speciality?”

“My dad”, Yodo said, smiling, “is a genjutsu master.”

Chocho strengthened her grip, ready to crush Yodo’s tibia right there and then.

Mirai held her hands on Shikadai’s crown of his head, sensing around.

Shikadai had persisted and begged the staff at the hospital to let someone who was an expert in the art of genjutsu to check his head if there were lingering traces of a genjutsu. It had not been an easy battle, since no one believed in him.

No one.

Instead, he had been met with threats to be tranquilized if he didn’t calm down, which had only infuriated him further. The doors had closed behind his back half past eight in the morning and one of the first patients he had met in the common area had her arms bandaged too, which had triggered him to infinity. He had sulked and cried in a few rounds before going to the first nurse and asked to be believed. He was still feeling nauseous from the blood-loss, which made him even crankier.

The nurse had sighed after he had begged her.

“Calm down and wait for the evening medicine”, one nurse had said. “Then we can see later.”

Evening medicine! That was eight in the evening, almost twelve hours from now on. The walls closed in on Shikadai, suffocating him. He couldn’t wait until evening before anyone would listen to him. He just couldn’t suffer until then.

He checked the list with the nurse’s shifts on the wall. At twelve the following shift begins, at lunch when they needed many nurses at the same time to assist at the lunch. And then, his saviour would arrive. His favourite nurse.

Shikadai waited for her shift to begin, pacing angrily around and picking on the bandage around his arm.

“If you won’t stop touching your bandage, we will tranquilize you”, the same nurse had said and had gotten a frustrated growl as a reply.

“I am innocent!” Shikadai had hissed back and slumped down in the sofa in the common room. “And I am not sick.”

He closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts and planned his speech to make someone listen to him.

After what felt like an eternity, his favourite nurse, Miya, finally came to work. He had to suffer through lunch; getting a different menu than the rest. He had a mountain of spinach, pork, and a huge glass of milk. Food to eat after blood-loss.

It felt almost embarrassing to have a favourite nurse at a mental hospital, but it was how it was and Shikadai was angry when he finally got down the final leaf of spinach. He hated spinach, but it couldn’t be helped.

The second lunch was over and free time began, he jumped up to Miya, grabbed her hand and _begged_ her to listen to him.

The wonderful Miya led him to a separate room where they sat down and Shikadai told her the story. He had planned for hours his speech, multiple times saying ‘I know I sound delusional, but I’m not’ in a try to convince her.

“I know I am sometimes ill, and I know I have been here before and I _know_ you don’t believe me, but please, I am not ill right now. I know I can be delusional, but right now I am not, please, you have to believe me,” he finished.

She listened eagerly and when he was finished, she smiled at him.

“Okay”, she said. “I am glad you managed to tell me this. I will talk to the doctors and see if we find someone who can make you feel more at ease.”

“I want Mirai”, Shikadai mumbled. “Sarutobi Mirai. She is an expert.”

Miya looked at him for a long time.

“Okay”, she said. “We’ll find her phone number.”

When she walked into the break room for the nurses the nurse who had dismissed Shikadai came up to her.

“You sport favouritism”, she said, lifting her coffee mug to her lips. “The Nara-Sand boy.” She switched position in her seat, looking through the glass that was a window leading into the common area. On the other side it was a mirror, which meant that the patients couldn’t know if someone was guarding them from the other side of the glass. Shikadai was sitting in the couch, occasionally glaring at the mirror, knowing the nurses were there. “Is it because he was so young when he came the first time? We’ve had multiple youngsters here before, so why are you so attached to him?”

Miya stared at her colleague.

“I do not sport favouritism”, she said. “I’m simply helping my patients because that is my job and I care about them. And I care about each patient equally.”

“Are you seriously going to indulge in his delusions?” the other nurse said. “You are doing the opposite of what a nurse should. We are here to keep him alive, stable and to wait out the symptoms enough. The boy is a wreck. The cut on his arm is a manifest of that already.”

Miya couldn’t believe her colleague had gotten into the mental health business, with such lacking empathy.

“Delusions or not”, she began. “My job is to make him feel safe. Even if this talk about a genjutsu is a delusion, I will validate his feelings and not shut him down, because to just fight against a patient won’t ever help. If it makes him feel safer when this Sarutobi Mirai talks to him, then, yes, I will do it.”

If stares could kill, Miya’s colleague would probably die on the spot.

“We should never use our advantage over our patients,” she continued. “You never listen to them, you never validate their feelings. You always jump to tranquilizing when all they need is a shoulder to cry against. I have held that Nara-Sand boy in my lap before, whereas have you ever calmed someone down with your voice instead of forced injections?” Miya clenched her fist. “Even if he is ill, he deserves to be treated as a human being. His voice matters. And if it makes him less scared and angry to talk to this woman, then yes. I will use this method instead of tranquilizing him.”

The colleague snorted while Miya took out the phone book to find the number to Sarutobi Mirai.

And so Mirai came as soon as she could. Her fiancé waited outside with the baby in the stroller, while she went inside. She had earlier heard the horrifying news and yearned to see Shikadai, her little brother, to tell him how strong he is and how much she loved him. Her fiancé had been reluctant to remain outside.

“What if something happens to you?” he asked when they stood outside the doors of the ward. The baby Asuya was sound asleep in the stroller.

“What do you mean ‘happens to me’?” Mirai snapped, on the verge of irritation. She was so tense and filled with fluctuating emotions, angry because Shikadai had attempted the most horrible of decisions, but overjoyed he failed. “I’m just going inside to talk to him. Nothing will happen to me.”

“But he is –“

“Stop”, Mirai interrupted. “He is my _brother._ You’ve known him for long enough to know what a wonderful person he is, and you know he isn’t dangerous, not even now. He deserves someone to listen to him and no matter what ‘he is’, I will go inside and listen to him.”

She gave her fiancé a cold gaze and stepped inside.

The first thing she saw when she stepped inside the doctor’s office where Shikadai was staying for this occasion was the bandage around his arm.

“Oh Shikadai”, she blurted out and hugged him. He draped his arms around her too, firmly, like he never wanted to leave. “I am so happy to see you.” She couldn’t stop herself and kissed Shikadai on his forehead. “I love you, little brother. Don’t ever forget that. I know we don’t see each other that much anymore, but always remember. You are my brother by choice. That is a powerful bond.”

“I know”, Shikadai said and dried snot against his sleeve. “Mirai, help me. Yodo did this to me, she cast a genjutsu on me. She gave me a new voice; an evil voice and I couldn’t stand it. I just had to give in to what it told me. Can you look through my head and see if you find traces of a genjutsu?”

Mirai nodded.

“I can try.”

The doctor cleared his throat.

“I don’t know how familiar you are with his diagnosis”, the doctor began. “A common symptom is delusion, and they can be about being mind controlled. If you don’t find anything, don’t worry. He is just believing in his imaginary mind control.”

“I’m not delusional”, Shikadai snapped. “I was there when she did it. I saw it, and it was real.”

His words sounded exactly like the ones coming from the mouth of a person deep in psychosis. He just didn’t remember himself too clearly how he had the two earlier times snarled to the staff that there are spies outside, or that Inojin hates him, or something else. And all the times he had said the spies were _real_ and outside.

Mirai’s lips formed a thin line.

“That won’t stop me from trying”, she said. “Okay, I will put my hands on your head now, Shikadai. Tell me if you don’t like the feeling.”

“Do it”, Shikadai said and leaned forward.

Mirai put her hands on his head and sensed around. Contrary to a Yamanaka equipped with the Mind jutsu, Mirai could not see nor feel Shikadai’s mind or thoughts, only find traces of a genjutsu.

Even if the spell would’ve left him, certain traces could be found up until one day after the victim has been released from the mental torture.

Mirai sensed around for what felt like an eternity. Shikadai grew restless and his stomach turned into a black hole of coldness as he feared that what he had experienced hadn’t been true, that the clear memory of Yodo handing him the knife had been the clearest visual hallucination he had had so far, that he really was insane –

“You find something?” the doctor asked, clearly hinting that he was tired of Shikadai’s persistent begging and just wanted to stamp _psychotic_ on Shikadai’s forehead, lock the door behind his back to get on with his day.

The tone in his voice was enough to pierce Shikadai’s heart and a single tear found its way into the corner of his mouth as his whole jaw was shaking.

_No, no, I don’t want to– Please believe me…_

“Well, I guess it was all for nothing – “

“Shh”, Mirai said. “There is something here.”

The doctor shut his mouth, focusing on Mirai’s movement of her hands.

“He is not lying”, she said. “There is a shadow of a genjutsu here. I will pull it out.”

“Pull a genjutsu out?” the doctor asked.

“Genjutsu has a tangible form”, Mirai explained. “One must know how to manage to grab them, as they are thin as smoke.” She made a long sequence of hand signs, before she pressed two fingers against Shikadai’s forehead. “Release.”

Because her jutsu now was a different one, a jutsu specialized in seizing the genjutsu instead of just getting rid of it and let it fade away on its own, a thin line of white smoke followed her fingers through Shikadai’s forehead when she slowly lifted them away.

The doctor stared at the white smoke.

When all of it had left Shikadai’s head, the smoke turned blood red and disappeared. It faded into nothing, leaving only a piercing silence in the room.

Mirai, having sensed the genjutsu’s design and intentions through her fingers, lifted her hand to her mouth.

“Oh my god…” she whispered. “So horrible…”

“Was I right?” Shikadai asked, as in an exhale.

Mirai didn’t answer, only hugged him. The doctor just regarded them, before looking awkwardly around in the room.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you”, Mirai whispered. “That genjutsu was so awfully brutal.”

“It was like the cruellest voices”, Shikadai said.

“You didn’t deserve this”, Mirai said. She looked over Shikadai’s shoulder at the doctor. “And you should apologize to Shikadai.”

The doctor swallowed but looked right at Shikadai.

He apologized.

“I will kill them all, I will _murder them,_ I will – “ Temari muttered as she paced around the living room in the house she had grown up in. She had a few hours before that very moment got to know her only child was alive by a miracle and that there was a chance, he had been commanded to do such desperate act by a genjutsu.

Yodo had possibly framed Shikadai, made the murder seem like a suicide, because _it would have been one,_ and thus get away with the horrible crime and Temari had been far away from Konoha, far away from being able to protect her baby from this.

They had almost immediately after Temari learned Yodo had been in Konoha and possibly committed such despicable crime stormed Yodo’s family’s home.

Nothing had been found, not even after the whole home had been searched. There had been no genjutsu, none that they could find.

“Yodo’s father, Yomi, is nowhere to be found”, Kankuro said. He was looking out of the window, down at the lively street below them. People went on and about, doing errands, having fun. There were a few fruit stalls, selling fruits imported from Tea Country. Durian, lychee, pomelos. He observed the elderly man making business by the stalls and briefly thought about how carefree it must be to just walk out on the streets this particular day. To not be burdened by this knowledge, this uncertainty. “We checked the mission roster. He has not been responsive to his latest. No one knows where he is.”

“And how come you’re not keeping track of your shinobi, huh?” Temari snarled.

“It’s not my job – “

She turned to Gaara, who sat by a table in Yomi and Yodo’s house, seemingly in deep thought and with a wrinkle between his eyes.

“Do I really have to do everything in this village?” Temari almost snapped, low on patience and understanding when she was met with silence. “Reform the system if first class shinobi can just disappear like that. They are after my child for fucks’ sake and no one noticed it.”

None of her brothers protested or said anything against her. They hadn’t done so for the entire day. The had let their sister scream, cry, accuse and curse at the world and everyone in it.

“He is skilled in genjutsu, that man”, Kankuro said. “If he managed to forge a genjutsu that imitates Shikadai’s symptoms so well he is sure to be dangerous.”

“What do we know about him?” Temari asked. “He must be in our age, right?”

“Born the same year as you, we checked”, Kankuro said. The family had never hung out with this man, since Sunese pre-genin shinobi hadn’t when they were young, attended class together, but were immediately put into teams to learn techniques on the field. That was why Temari had grown up with so few friends. Kankuro looked at her with serious eyes. “Yomi is the man everyone is asking for in Suna if one wants a genjutsu. He forges them himself, design them according to the victim in question. I’ve never seen him in battle, since our jutsu clash in fighting style. He was usually assigned a small genjutsu team that mainly focused completely on bounty hunting. Brought in big cash to our village on many occasions.”

Temari looked herself around, to double check that Shinki had left the conversation. He had been terribly upset when he had heard what Yodo maybe had done. More so, he felt that everything that had happened to his cousin essentially was his fault. He admitted that Yodo knew of Shikadai’s condition before this spring when they all came to visit him for his party and for Shikadai’s disinheriting, because she had asked him why Shikadai didn’t come to Suna as often as promised. He had finally caved in and told her the reason. Their team was after all familiar with Team 10 of Konoha from the first chunin game they had taken part of, where Yodo had battled Shikadai and it was in her nosy nature to ask how her past opponent was doing over there in the forest.

And this was far before Shikadai and Inojin came to visit. Shinki had told them a while ago.

This family must’ve began plotting already then.

Yodo, and by extension The Nameless One, knew of Shikadai’s illness because of Shinki.

That knowledge had crushed him.

“They must have done extensive research to be able to mimic the symptoms”, Temari mused. “I mean, most people turn to stereotypes or just don’t know what the illness entails, so they did a massive job to be able to forge this genjutsu, or to frame him.” She bit her thumbnail as he was thinking. “It would have been more effective to just come up and try to stab him. Why a genjutsu?”

Gaara looked up from where he had sunk, deep in thought.

“Because it was the most important for them that the illness would be the blaming factor in his death”, he said, thoughts racing inside his head. “They are probably trying to overthrow our lineage.”

Kankuro almost jumped over to his younger brother.

“What do you mean?”

“Has there ever been a time when the population of Suna has undivided supported our family and our rule? No”, Gaara said. “And I am okay with that. I try to be the best ruler I can be, but there will always be those I, and by extension, we as the Kazekage family can’t please. There was enough ruckus when you married a Konohan.” He looked at Temari. “And all this time there has been small gatherings of people wishing for another ruling family. Though, they have always been in such small numbers that they haven’t ever been a proper threat, but, if I am correct, this family might have a lead they believe in.”

“Which is?” Temari asked, voice small and faint. She barely managed to speak.

“They want proof we are a family to not be trusted with the power anymore”, Gaara continued. “They know we got a mental illness that can be inherited, and they want to use that as an argument why our family is not fit for ruling this village anymore.”

“So that is why they needed Shikadai die by suicide, to prove that our family has madness in it”, Temari breathed. “Oh my god.”

“What a brutal way”, Kankuro said. “They want us to resign because we have this running in our genes.”

“This cannot be true”, Temari said, feeling a headache and pain from a broken heart spread in her.

“They must’ve known our parents from before dad became Kazekage”, Gaara said. “That way they have probably gotten the clues of our mother’s symptoms.”

“But Shikadai doesn’t have the same symptoms as she did”, Temari said. “Not according to the old journals. She had a lot of visual hallucinations, Shikadai has mainly auditory.”

“Shinki meant he hadn’t disclosed anything in detail to Yodo nor Araya”, Gaara said. “Only that he has these certain struggles.”

“But hey”, Kankuro said. “Didn’t the woman bring you to the Sunagakure's Asylum for Lunatics? The abandoned hospital?"

Temari looked at him.

“Yes.”

“Do you think these people have connections to that hospital?” he asked. “What if… what if The Nameless One was one of the staff members there where mother spent some time?”

Temari’s eyes widened in horror.

“That would explain how they had enough knowledge to be able to forge the genjutsu to match Shikadai”, Kankuro continued. “Because they are used to treating people with those problems.”

“So, we know they might want to expose our family as one with genetics leaning towards mental health problems”, Gaara said. “And that it’s likely they know a lot about the symptoms Shikadai has, meaning they might be, or have been, in the field.”

Suddenly, a lightbulb lit for Temari.

“Come with me”, she said. “I know where we might find them.”

“Where?” Kankuro asked.

Temari grabbed her iron fan, newly sharpened and ready to decapitate if she had to. Her eyes gleamed of eagerness to avenge her son. Yesterday was another date which would be added to the anniversary list.

The anniversary of the Kumo mission.

The anniversary of him and Inojin becoming a couple.

The anniversary of Inojin’s injury.

And now the anniversary of the day Shikadai almost died.

She looked at her brothers.

“We’re going to the abandoned hospital,” Temari said. Her hand squeezed around the base of her fan, revenge and murder-intent boiling in her blood. “We are going to Sunagakure’s Asylum for Lunatics.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we getting a fight soon? 😍
> 
> So, how will Chocho vs. Yodo end up? And what about Temari vs. Yomi? And what will happen to the boys?


	14. The lives of our children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These scenes are happening more or less at the same time and are not chronological.

In times such as these, Ino’s Mind jutsu was an amazing tool. She could connect all members of the company, trying to sort out a plan that involved as few people as possible.

Choji was out of his mind, scared like never before.

“Are you sure you can’t find her?”

“Any time the Mind is impenetrable, there is something going on with the person,” Ino said. “She might be busy, she was running – “

“Yes, she might be fighting someone who can cast a genjutsu strong enough to murder the victim,” Karui sneered.

“We need to find her and help her,” Choji added. “Please, Ino, you see…”

“Chocho is pregnant,” Karui said and the company of Ino, Sai and Shikamaru stared at her.

“Pregnant?” Ino echoed. She had picked up that Chocho had been devastated at the fact of not getting a little baby on her own. “What – I thought – “

“Well, miracles do happen, and they happened now and Chocho might be in danger,” Karui snapped. “We need to assist her in case that Yodo cast her under a genjutsu.”

“Temari talked about a Sound jutsu which Yodo’s mother used, manipulating the balance organ – “ Shikamaru began.

“Shikamaru, not helping!” Karui growled.

It was an odd moment of desperation to see from Karui. The woman, with a soul of ice and storm, rarely showed desperation. Anger yes, and Karui resolved anger with violence, but to see her lose the icy, calm interior was unfamiliar.

“Honey…” Choji tried. He had sunk into his insecure self, terrified of what his daughter might go through, especially since they knew Yodo had advanced terribly since they last saw her in battle when she was twelve years old. Skilled in genjutsu and ninjutsu through sound. “Everything will be oka – “

Karui turned towards him, a sharp movement which sent her hair flying.

“Were you going to say everything will be _okay?_ ” she growled. “How many times have we told these kids that? We happily sent them away to Kumo, even if I _knew_ there was something rotten going on up there among the ice and snow, and – surprise, I was right! Shikadai’s illness got triggered and yet we told them it was _okay!_ ” She drew a sharp breath through her nose, now staring straight at Sai. “And then a year later, we told them once again that everything was going to be _okay_ when we walked with them down the stairs to an unknown catacomb filled with skulls of dead children, and, who knew, _nothing_ was okay. And before we knew it, Inojin’s ability to walk was robbed from him. Heck, even I almost died.”

She unsheathed her katana.

“I have seen enough of our children suffering to know that this does not end happily,” she snarled. “Come with me. Let’s eradicate the threat.”

Ino moved closer.

“Don’t you remember what happened last time we left Inojin after us because we thought they were the safest back here in Konoha?” she almost snarled. “I will not leave Konoha, nor leave the boys on their own, before we’ve got a bomb proof plan.”

“I’m sorry to break your illusion – “ Karui began. “But nothing in this world is bomb proof. At some point something has to be sacrificed.”

Ino stared at her.

“Did you just imply you are totally fine with sacrificing my son?”

“Of course not,” Karui said. “But if you think about it, taking him _with us_ is more of a death wish than leaving him here. Yes, it happened once that he became attacked at home, but this world is made out of chaos, which means nothing will probably repeat itself. I place money on that they’re safe back here and not with us.”

“Inojin’s life can’t be measured in money,” Sai said, voice even, but it had a tinge of worry in it. He wasn’t sure what to do either and Karui’s confusing comparison made him second guess everything.

“He can’t come with us,” Karui said. “He’d only slow us down and my daughter’s life is on the line. The longer we spend time here arguing about Inojin and Shikadai the less we can help her.”

“You can’t decide – “ Ino began and that made Karui snap.

“Your son _can’t walk!”_ she screamed in Ino’s face. “These years have been hell for our kids, or, should I say your kids. First Shikadai, then Inojin and all these years you have been so consumed in your own pity that you’ve all forgot Chocho. She has also suffered, and she has been put on the side-line for too long.” He tightened her fist so hard her knuckles turned almost beige. “Choji and I have given all our help and time to make your battles easier. We’ve always helped, supported, put down money and time for you, because the Ino-Shika-Cho are supposed to be family, right? Where did that go? Just because Chocho is now in danger, you are all lethargic.”

Her yellow eyes were burning.

“You all wanted an 18th generation of your precious formation,” she said. “Well, my child is the only gate to that dream now and you don’t give a damn.”

“We do give a damn,” Shikamaru interrupted. “We just have more to think of – “

“I always gave Chocho permission to fight, to do her utmost to help your boys,” Karui said. “I was ready to see Chocho injured for your children’s sake, for fucks’ sake!”

“But, Karui, you seem to have, I don’t know, forgotten that my son can’t walk,” Ino said, voice poisoned by sarcasm. “Don’t you know we’ve felt jealousy because Chocho has always been the one who’s managed the best out of all predicaments they’ve been through? Don’t you realise I have sometimes wished it were Chocho or Shikadai falling on their back in a ravine and not Inojin? Don’t you think Temari and Shikamaru have wished someone but Shikadai had had his mental health deteriorate the way it did?”

She looked quickly up at Shikamaru, who was pale in the face. He hated to admit that Ino was right. They had wondered to infinity if Shikadai would have avoided activating his illness if they never went to Kumo in the first place, the place where it all had begun. They had wondered if everything had ended differently if Shikadai had been the one left behind in a frosty jail instead of Inojin. They had so, so wondered.

Ino brought a few strands behind her ear to gain time. Karui stared at her and the way her jaw was tight shut with the jaw muscles working hard out of the pressure told her already Karui was almost ready to attack her.

“We have been so _fucking_ jealous of you Akimichis who still have a daughter saved from so much pain,” Ino continued, somewhat less agitated. She tried to sound reasonable, but maybe she failed. “You, who don’t have had to put down so much money and time just to give your child the most basic needs and care. It’s so expensive to have a child with special needs.”

The touchiest subject of them all. Shikadai had firmly told his parents, who paid for the medication, that he never wanted to know what they costed. The village paid for some of them, but some the Nara family had to pay themselves. He had once muttered how he ‘was eating money’ when he took his meds, but it couldn’t be helped. His wellbeing was in some respects dependent on them.

Inojin on the other hand knew down to the ryo what he had costed for his parents. The physiotherapy and all doctor visits were paid by the village, but his mobility aid and all the other things accustomed to his needs were only partly funded. And wheelchairs were not cheap.

Karui forced a smile.

“’Still’ have,” she repeated. “You make it sound like you wish for something bad to happen to her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous now,” Ino snarled.

Both women stared at each other for a few burning seconds.

“Inojin stays here,” Karui said. “I don’t want to take his needs in consideration when we fight. I’m sorry.”

Ino stared at Karui, finding herself at a loss of words. The nerve of this woman! She wanted to take a step forward and scream something insulting in Karui’s face, but Sai took a brave step instead to place a hand over Ino’s shoulder.

“I believe in him. He will manage,” he said and Ino threw a helpless gaze over at him.

_I love him so much, Sai, I can’t bare to think something bad happens to him. Not again. Not again._

Sai pinched his lips together, looking for the correct words. He didn’t like talking about sensitive or private matters in front of other people. Those words were savoured for Ino and only Ino.

But they weren’t alone.

“You don’t know how strong you are until strong is your only option,” Sai blurted out and Ino stared at him, realising he was talking about their son. “Everyone only sees the faults in Inojin, only see the wheelchair, only pity him. But he is strong. He has become stronger than any of us, through all of this. And Shikadai is strong too, maybe even stronger than Inojin. They have been forged by fire and blood.” He grabbed Ino’s hand, looking into the blue of her soul. “And Inojin has his wings now.”

Ino wanted to smile. She really wanted to.

“He can’t use them,” she whispered.

“Who said this can’t be the first time?” Sai asked, painfully aware that the rest were staring at them. He wanted this moment alone with Ino, but there was no such chance. He licked his lips, planning his next sentence. “And, love, we added something to the wings the last time Inojin visited us, while you were working. Out on the outer edges of his wings, right where the longest feathers are, there are on either side huge daggers hidden. He will always have weapons on him, sealed inside him. This is different compared to when we left him at home the previous time. He is now accustomed to his disability and he _can_ fight.”

Ino managed to smile.

“Okay,” she said, waterlines already becoming wet. Oh Sai, her Sai. He always managed to calm her down when her blood was running hot.

“So, he stays here,” Karui said and Ino was brought back to the here and now, and wanted to almost slap Karui. But deep inside, she understood why Karui was so worked up. Who wanted to get to their child at a slower pace than needed just because your husband’s friends had their own children to think of?

“If I sensed her correctly, she is closer to Suna than to us,” Ino finally said, feeling almost irritated out of stress. She clenched her fist and looked up at Shikamaru. “I’ll try to get into Temari’s head. She is closer to Chocho than we are. If she can get to her first, maybe the situation will be calmer. Sure, Yodo can’t be stronger than Temari, right?”

“Call her,” Shikamaru said. “Tell her what is going on, and we’ll listen to her judgement.” He wasn’t sure in what condition Temari was. She had been upset in the last phone call and he was painfully aware that Temari wasn’t okay after the fear of being sterilised while being awake. But she was the kunoichi of the Sand, someone who didn’t back off from a fight.

Ino connected to Temari’s mind.

_What is it?_ Temari snarled on the other side when she felt Ino intrude into her mind.

_Are you okay? Chocho has gone after Yodo, and we need to give her backup. If Yodo manages to trap Chocho is that horrific genjutsu –_

_I doubt Yodo is that dangerous,_ Temari cut Ino off. _The dangerous one is her father. Her father is the mastermind behind this. He must’ve imprinted the genjutsu inside her at first._

_Wait, you think Yodo was under a genjutsu as well?_ Ino asked.

_Can’t say for sure, but what I am sure is that Chocho can manage fine on her own. Where are they?_

_The train tracks, by the border to Wind Country._

Temari seemed to think for a moment, planning the battle.

_Gaara, Kankuro and I are going to attack Yodo’s father, Yomi._

Ino looked at Shikamaru, who was also connected in the call. He stared right at nothing, pupils dilated by fear.

_This is the husband to the person who almost sterilised you!_ he yelled right into Temari’s mind. _You can’t –_

_Come with me,_ Temari said. _Come with me and avenge Shikadai._

Shikamaru stared in front of him, then at Sai.

“Lend me a bird, Sai,” he said. One hand reached down into his pocket, where his fingers gripped around Asuma’s old lighter, the lighter that had been Shikamaru’s guidance ever since he was younger than Shikadai is now. Feeling the smooth steel surface of it it had during all these years been a steady point to hold, something that was always the same, unchangeable.

His family could have been torn apart by now. There had been the possibility that the lighter would be the only thing that would have staid the same.

“I’m going with Temari.”

“So you’re just going to leave Chocho to her own destiny?” Karui snarled. “What fucking Ino-Shika-Cho is this? Is avenging Shikadai more important that _saving my daughter?”_

“Karui…” Choji tried and put his hand on Karui’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me,” Karui snarled.

_Listen to me, Karui,_ Temari said through the mind connection. _Yodo is not the mastermind behind this plan. She is a pawn, a tool designed to get closer to Shikadai. Chocho is not in danger, I promise you. Yodo is not the one who designed that genjutsu and Chocho is an amazing fighter by now. I am sure she will manage._

Karui huffed a short breath.

“If you are wrong,” she began, “I will kill you.”

On the other side of the line Temari was almost smiling.

_You won’t have to. We’ll send Shinki and Araya to help Chocho. They’re Yodo’s teammates and know her better than anyone. We already asked them about her genjutsu knowledge, and they said they have never seen her use a strong genjutsu before. She was a pawn under her father._

Karui took a deep breath. Independence was something he had wanted to teach Chocho since a young age, to manage fighting on her own. If Yodo had her common jutsu, the sound one, then Chocho will succeed in her fight.

Despite her carrying a little seed inside her.

“Do you want assistance?” she then asked.

_Come with me,_ Temari said. _Come with me and kill Yodo’s father._

“It’ll take us hours – “ Shikamaru began.

“Then you are here to celebrate with me when I win,” Temari said. “I treat the ale. Now get on birds and come with me. Fight with me and celebrate with me.”

_My family, tainted by psychosis, will no more be threatened by discrimination and death. I will fight for my son’s rights to live his life as well as he is capable of, as well as he can._

_He doesn’t deserve this._

_He deserves happiness._

_So let me, damn it, give him that._

“Just sit down, I’ll make you a cup of tea,” Mirai said. Shikadai slumped down in his own sofa and Inojin came quickly by his side.

The fiancé had brought Asuya home with him and left Mirai to supervise her little brother, who had just survived a murder attempt. The psychiatrist who had worked with Shikadai the most at the mental hospital had decided to let him go home when the truth came out, since Shikadai was reluctant to stay and claimed he would feel better if he was able to stay with Inojin. He had been framed by something that wasn’t his own head. By someone. By Yodo. And so, the psychiatrist let him go home.

“Where is dad?” Shikadai asked. He sounded nervous and Inojin immediately regretted taking him home instead of forcing him to stay. But the hierarchy in a mental hospital was ruthless and psychiatrist understood Shikadai didn’t want to stay there, being labelled insane with no one listening to him, when he was _here_ and not in the world no one else could see, and found it more beneficial to let him rest at home.

“Don’t think about him right now,” Mirai said. “You should rest. We can watch some tv. Or do you want to play games?”

Shikadai looked over at her, suddenly feeling so young and small. When Mirai looked back at him he remembered the years when he was a child, and she used to babysit him. They used to sit and watch tv or have some friendly spar in the backyard of the Nara household, or Shikadai would nap against Mirai’s side while she was writing something in her journals. Those moments were precious memories to him, moments disappearing as he had entered his teenage years.

Those had been moments of happiness.

If he had known, as a child, what the future would bring him, he wouldn’t know what to do. He had been so happy and carefree. The biggest problem in his childhood was having to do laundry with his mother nagging behind him or eat spinach for any other reason than recovering from blood-loss or to wake up in time for school. Later it was coming to terms with realising he had feelings for a boy and then to figure out how to hide said relationship.

And then, then his problems grew exponentially.

Right now, his biggest problem was the bandaged arm and what was beneath it. Inori was sitting by his side, happy to see him again after the hours they had been separated.

“Tea is fine,” he said. Mirai proceeded to the kitchen and began boiling water for them and routed around in their drawers in search for the tea. She immediately looked for it in the lower cupboards, realising that the teabags had to be within Inojin’s reach. The gesture, the notion that she _remembered_ and put together two and two made Inojin’s stomach warm. She adapted her thinking according to him.

“Our parents are out there, trying to bring Yodo back,” Inojin told Shikadai. Shikadai was fidgety, constantly touching his fingertips which lacked feeling, and moved his feet non-stop. “They will make her accountable for all this pain that has been caused you. I promise.”

“I would like to… go out there,” Shikadai said, hand in Inori’s fur. “I want to help them.”

“No. You will stay here,” Mirai said. “Don’t worry about them. Everything will be fine.”

“I don’t like it when people say it’s going to be fine,” Shikadai said.

Inojin pinched his lips together, taking Shikadai’s healthy hand in his own to prevent him from touching his own fingers too much, even if he knew Shikadai was still curious and trying to wrap his head around this lack of sensation.

“I know, sweetie,” he said. “I know.”

Inojin had been everywhere but present in the discussion about Yodo and who does what and who goes after who. He had been so upset over the situation with Shikadai, so shocked from the moment he held Shikadai in his lap, when it was still unknown if he’d survive the blood-loss. In that moment he wasn’t yet aware they had hosted a murderer-to-be, and the realisation that they had _hosted_ Yodo, let her sleep on their sofa, was hard to swallow.

Ino and Sai had let him talk out all his feelings after Shikadai was admitted to the hospital, and only later, when it became clear Shikadai was framed had let Inojin go to him. They had other matters to deal with, and Inojin knew that the other matter was Chocho and Yodo.

It pinched him in his stomach to think of that he had sent Chocho to take care of Yodo. He had essentially put her into danger.

Mirai poured hot water into the pot and brought it to the tv table along with two mugs. They were both Shikadai’s mugs, since she had only opened the top cabinets instead of the lower ones, but Inojin accepted one of them without telling her.

“Would you like for me to stay here for longer?” she gently asked Shikadai.

He quickly looked her in the eye, pinching his lips together before shaking his head.

“I am a little empty, but I am happy to be home,” Shikadai said, looking around himself in the living room where he and Inojin spent so much time together. This was their first home, their nest. He was so happy to be home instead of staying against his will at the ward. “I didn’t want to do it for real. It was all fake. I just feel sad.”

He looked down at the bandage of his arm. It tingled in his fingers and hurt a bit when he squeezed the fingers together.

_What have I done?_

“Are you sure you are okay?” Mirai asked. “I can bring Asuya over here – “

“The smaller of us needs you more,” Shikadai said and forced a smile. “I can manage. Please. I have Inojin here.”

Inojin smiled up at Mirai.

“I can be here for him,” he said. “Go and take care of Asuya.”

Mirai didn’t seem too convinced, but Shikadai took the teacup and brought it up to his lips. He drank peacefully without spacing out, seemingly alert in this world, which was a good sign.

“Okay,” Mirai said, glancing nervously at the clock on the wall. “I’ll go home and feed him. I’m coming back to check in on you in an hour or so. You think you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah,” Shikadai said. “I’ll be okay.”

Mirai smiled to him, gave him a rub on his shoulder and left them.

Shikadai looked down in his mug for a while before bravely taking up eye contact with Inojin after having stared down at his security inside Inori’s calm brown eyes.

“Where is Chocho?” he asked. Inojin pinched his lips together. There was no use in lying.

“She went after Yodo,” he said.

“Is she okay?” Shikadai asked quietly.

“I hope,” Inojin said.

“Shouldn’t you contact her?” Shikadai asked. “Just to check in on her.” He shifted in the sofa. “I’d like to apologize to her too…”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Inojin was quick to add. “You were being used. That is nothing to apologize for.” He kissed Shikadai on his temple. “I can contact her.”

He brought his hand up in the activating Ram sign, just to quickly stroke by Chocho’s mind to see how she was doing when her pain sharply transferred via the Mind Connection to Inojin.

Sharp pain struck him in his stomach and his upper body jerked violently in the sofa at the same time as his contact broke.

“What?” Shikadai asked and brought his hands around Inojin’s. His eyes were shining of worry as Inojin shook his hands free and brought them up by the sides of his head.

“It hurt,” he said. “It has never hurt before when I’ve tried to contact someone.”

“What does that mean?” Shikadai pressed on. “Is she in danger?”

“I – I don’t know,” Inojin said, hands still around his head. Shikadai stared at his boyfriend, pupils growing smaller as this new information embedded inside him. He put his hands down from his head, down to his lower stomach where the pain had been. He didn’t have sensation anymore at the place his hands found themselves, low down at his pelvis. The place a baby is in a safe womb.

“Where is she?” Shikadai asked, staring at Inojin’s hands.

“Close to Suna,” Inojin whispered as he pressed onto his stomach, despite not feeling it. “Oh my god…”

“She is in danger, isn’t she,” Shikadai stated and stood up. “Let’s help her.”

If Inojin could stand up, he would, to put a hand against Shikadai’s shoulder to keep him down. But he couldn’t, so he remained sitting in the sofa, staring at Shikadai.

“This is my fault,” he whispered. “I have no idea what powers Yodo possesses right now. I don’t know what she can do to Chocho.”

“I’ve beaten her once,” Shikadai said in a moment of sudden self-confidence. “I can beat her again.”

“She almost killed you!” Inojin yelled. “She had a genjutsu which could have taken you away from me! And I can’t handle the thought of you being dead… Please Shikadai… I can’t… It hurts too much.”

Shikadai stared back at him, jaw muscles working hard as he clenched his teeth together, trying to avoid shaking so much. He blinked away a few tears.

“Chocho needs our help,” he tried again, voice lacking volume and all bravado fading into weakness once again.

“I can’t lose you,” Inojin almost whimpered. “I can’t lose you… You don’t know how horrifying it was to hold you in my lap and I didn’t know if you’d survive – “

“I know,” Shikadai said and sat down again by Inojin’s side. “I know what it feels like. I’ve held your lame body when you were drugged up in Kumo. They told us you were going to die. And for a second I actually believed in them. God, I was so scared, you don’t even know. I thought you’d never know. And then I’ve held you by your hand when you were about to fall down the ravine again. So, I know what it’s like. It’s horrifying. I know, sweetie.” By some miracle he found the strength to smile a genuine, cheeky smile. “Call it even?”

_Call it even._

“This isn’t something I want to call even,” Inojin nervously chuckled, also finding courage and strength through Shikadai’s smile. That smile was a miracle. “But yes. From now on, none of us will have to hold the other one’s body on the brink of death.”

“Pinkie promise?” Shikadai sheepishly asked and Inojin laughed back at him, holding up his pinkie, hooking it around Shikadai’s healthy pinkie. “Never again.”

They looked each other in the eyes, finding strength they didn’t know they could possess after such a scarring morning.

Shikadai stood up, looking out of the window, at the sun shining above them.

“The sun reminds me a bit of Suna,” he said. “It’s definitely not as strong as there though…”

Inojin followed him with his gaze as Shikadai walked along the windowsill, letting his fingers touch the flowers Inojin took care of. They had seven different plants on their windowsill. Inojin would probably name both their scientific names as their common names. Shikadai hadn’t even bothered to learn and had instead fallen for Inojin’s whims to name the flowers as if naming their children.

“Chocho told me a long time ago how sorry and agonized she was that her citizenship to Kumo was the catalyst to my deteriorating,” Shikadai mumbled. “I can’t imagine how I will feel if she got injured because of my ties to Suna.” He looked up at Inojin. “She has been there for us through it all. For both you and me. We’d be the worst teammates ever if we’d just abandon her to her own device. You felt pain through her mind.” He swallowed. “She is pregnant, isn’t she?”

“I think she is,” Inojin mumbled.

“Then the choice is easy, isn’t it?”

Shikadai walked to Inojin again, rubbed his eyes, bent down and kissed him on his forehead.

“Ino-Shika-Cho live and die together,” he said.

“I’ve heard that too many times,” Inojin chuckled, anything to cover how desperate he really felt.

_No, I don’t want any of us to die –_

“I am aware I begin to sound like a broken record,” Shikadai said. He reached out his hand. “Come with me and help Chocho. Let’s show her what we can do, together.” He looked out the window straight at the sun. “The sun is up. That’s a good sign.”

_One final time._

“Can you even hold your fan?” Inojin asked. “Your hand is not working as it should yet.”

Shikadai looked down on his hand, closed it through the tingling feeling. He tried doing the Rat sign, just as a test.

“It’s my left hand,” he said. “I use mainly my right with my fan. Rat sign hurts a bit.”

“Are you feeling light-headed or nauseous?”

“No,” Shikadai said. “Eating really helped.”

Inojin pinched his lips together, thinking of Chocho and what she might be going though.

“Before we leave,” Inojin said. “And write a letter for Mirai when she comes back and wonder where we are.” He looked at Inori. “You stay here, Nori-girl. You can’t fight, you see, you’re no ninken.”

Inori tipped her head to the side, trying to decipher her beloved human’s words.

“We’ll come back soon,” Inojin continued, voice shaking. “And then we’ll go on walks like you like to do. Shikadai will come too with us. You just have to wait a little bit. But we will be back. It’s a promise.”

“Inojin,” Shikadai said. “I can somewhat shunshin along the train tracks, since I’ve been there before. My technique is not the best, though, but I can get us pretty close. And when the time comes… use your wings. I know you can do it. You might not walk, but I know you can fly.”

Inojin nodded and commanded Inori to wait.

Shikadai placed the fan on his back, a little shaky, but it went okay with his right arm. He placed his hands in the sign for shunshin.

_Let’s face the odds one final time._

_Let’s live or die together one final time._

Chocho squeezed Yodo’s shin at the same time as a sound wave torpedoed through the air around them when Yodo removed her hood and whipped her blond hair around in all its glory. All glass windows around them shattered, shards of glass slicing up the side of Chocho’s face and even finding their way down to her scalp, hidden under thick hair.

Chocho had to let Yodo’s leg go at the same time as the train did the emergency break. Yodo moved swiftly out of the broken window and jumped down in the soft sand by the train tracks. Chocho threw herself at the window, cutting her hands on shards in the process, but she made it out.

Her ears were ringing, and a hefty headache emerged from the sudden sound attack when her feet hit the sand.

Yodo stood a good distance away from her.

“Want to fight me?” she asked. “I gave you a chance to peacefully solve this. Remember that. You attacked me first. I even saved the civilians by leaving the train.”

“Shut up!” Chocho yelled.

“Tell me what your aim of this battle is,” Yodo asked. “Wound me, take me as hostage or kill me? I want to know the stakes, so I can respond back accordingly.”

“Hostage,” Chocho snarled.

“Sounds like a perfect idea,” Yodo said, now teasing on purpose to agitate Chocho. “Let’s see if you can win over me, Akimichi Chocho. And remember, you’ve got not only your own life to worry about.” Her gaze dropped down. “It would be a pity if something was to happen to your unborn baby.”

Chocho snapped, closed her fingers around her katana. It stung in her sliced palm as she gripped the handle.

“Do not speak to me of my baby,” she hissed.

And then she launched right at Yodo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we get to the good stuff, the fights!
> 
> What is your predictions, dear readers? Indulge me!


	15. The battle in the sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I didn't like this chapter, but then I edited it, and now I am super proud of his this chapter turned out!
> 
> Hopefully you will like it and get high of adrenaline while reading, just as I was, while I was editing ❤ Let me know what you think will happen after this!
> 
> And, psst, SpookyMoth... There is a part here you will recognise and yell at me for, haha.

Chocho raised her arm high, katana pointing towards the sky.

“You’re going to use your sound to aim at me,” she said. “I wonder how sensitive you are to loud noises.”

“Are you going to summon lightning?” Yodo laughed. “I can hear the sound of electricity before your lightning even will exist.”

“But what about the roar of thunder?” Chocho asked. “Is that enough to shatter your sensitive eardrum?”

Yodo, already hearing the lightning bolt was about to form from electrons Chocho was able to summon through her jutsu, took a massive jump to the side as the lightning bolt shot right at the place she stood at seconds ago.

“Why did you do it?” Chocho yelled.

Far behind them the train had stopped. They could hear faint noises of panic; a whole train car filled with people wondering what happened and why the windows shattered, but those wonders were the least of her concerns. She just stared at Yodo, anger bubbling inside every vein in her body.

“Why did you try to kill him?” Chocho repeated, voice growing more and more into a growl.

She was so mad. For year she had been there for her boys. She had let Shikadai lean against her and she had hugged him, whispering encouraging words into his ear. She had showed endless patience for him when he struggled, never growing restless when he sat on the floor, unable to get up even if they were within a time frame and should be on the go already. He had been her friend ever since they were small. She cared for him so much. She _loved_ him as her teammate and friend.

Her eyes filled with tears when she imagined the unimaginable, the most horrible outcome of Yodo’s visit.

“Answer me!” she yelled this time. “Look me in the eyes and tell me why you tried to kill my friend! You should know. You should know his life hasn’t been the easiest with his disorders, and if what you said was true, that you weren’t lying about your identity, then you should _know_ that he had struggled with his identity as gay too! Why did you want to ruin his life?”

Another lightning shot past and Yodo ducked, throwing a kunai. The metal object attracted the bolt, and the lightning changed its direction away from her. Chocho grunted as she followed with her steady gaze when Yodo jumped on the other side of the train tracks. The tracks worked as a shield for her, the metal of them attracting any lightning Chocho would aim at her.

“I just – “ Yodo began as she planted her feet steady in the loose sand, raised her arms and whipped her long hair, shooting a sound wave towards Chocho.

Chocho lifted a hand, a giant expanded fist, only that it wasn’t a fist, it was an open palm acting as a shield from the sound waves Yodo used on her. Pain cut into her ears and her expansion broke. The palm hadn’t been enough, as the jutsu Yodo used wasn’t a physical object – this was sound travelling through air, and air existed everywhere around them.

So, Yodo’s attack was undoubtedly the best from a distance, using air and sound to immobilise her victims, which meant that the only way to disarm her would be to strike good in a melee attack.

Chocho launched forward, prepared to become deaf from the sawing sound in her ears if it meant that she would win over this _fucking bitch who betrayed Shikadai and Inojin’s trust._ As she ran, preparing herself to turn into a boulder to at least make Yodo move to the side, she understood what the genjutsu Yodo must’ve used was.

It must’ve been a genjutsu through sound.

Maybe a single soothing tune in Shikadai’s ear was enough to put him under the horrible spell.

“Human Juggernaut,” Chocho yelled, and her body turned into the giant boulder, but just as she could already expect, Yodo ran to the side. She was not going to engage in a close battle. She’d do anything to avoid a melee attack. She fought from the distance.

_Shit, I’d need Inojin or Shikadai here._

Inojin and Shikadai were the range fighters of their generation of Ino-Shika-Cho. Both the Yamanaka Mind jutsu and Inojin’s Ink jutsu worked wonderfully as ranged, as well as Shikadai’s shadows and wind. Chocho was the melee fighter of their generation.

_This is not my type of fight._

Sand flew around her when she stopped her juggernaut jutsu, feet sinking into the deep sand by the side of the train track.

“You just what?” Chocho snarled. “Just wanted to kill him?”

“No!” Yodo shrieked back. “I _didn’t_ know! I just answered the questions my dad asked me about Shikadai. I had no idea.”

“What questions?” Chocho asked. “What his symptoms were?”

“A lot of things,” Yodo said. “They’ve asked me about him ever since our damn chunin game six years back. They’ve always known about him and his fate. It became pretty evident when he never came to Suna and was on ‘sick-leave’ so much the first years.”

“But why?” Chocho asked. “Why would you want to kill him? It doesn’t make sense, none of this makes sense!”

“Because dad wanted to show a middle finger to Shikadai’s family,” Yodo blurted out. “And you have to understand that I didn’t want to kill him. My dad, he – he, since he got to know I am gay too, he got so mad. He claimed I was going to become sick in my head just like Shikadai!”

Chocho stared at Yodo.

“But you have to know that it isn’t true,” she let out, shocked at the words Yodo spilled. “You know a mental illness is based on genes, nurture _and_ trauma, right? Your and his sexuality isn’t a part of that. How can you even think it that way?” She almost forgot to fight, so flabbergasted by what she heard.

“He threatened to kill me,” Yodo whispered. “My dad. I did it to save my own life!”

Chocho swallowed.

“Stop fighting me,” she commanded. “Come with me on our side. Let’s fight against your father together.”

Yodo shook her head violently.

“I am so tired of Konoha always being the solution,” she snarled. “You act so high and mighty and like everything is a field of roses and gold in your forests – “

“When have I ever said that?” Chocho asked. “Stop being silly now. If you really mean it, that you put Shikadai through horrible torture to save your own skin, then whatever conscious and morale there is still inside you should act, now! You should realise by now that you will lose when I kick your ass, and that you will face a trial if you do not join us and fight against your father.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” Yodo said. “You don’t understand – “

“No, I don’t, and I don’t want to understand!” Chocho said. “I don’t want to sympathise with evil people like your father who attack a family that just happens to have an illness running in it, like, what the heck is your father? A tyrant?”

Yodo took a step back, looking into the distance. She could hear it already.

“He is just a scared man.”

The train moving towards the opposite direction was coming towards them, still not visible. One could already see the steam coming from it in the horizon.

“He was just so scared of the blood of our family,” Yodo said, eyes towards the train coming at them. She looked back at Chocho. “Are _you_ afraid?”

She stepped onto the train tracks.

“I thought I was lucky that I haven’t fallen ill,” Yodo said. “But I was probably wrong. Maybe this isn’t supposed to have a happy ending.”

The ringing in Chocho’s ears from the sound attack Yodo had used on her prevented her from hearing the approaching train.

“Years of listening to my parents talking ill of Shinki’s family,” she continued. “My parents were obsessed with me becoming a mother, you know. They wanted to prove that the illness wasn’t running in our family anymore. “

Chocho’s eyes widened.

“And I told them I don’t want a child,” she said. “That I don’t want to marry a man. That the illness had already stopped because our family’s genes would end with me. I am fine, never had a single symptom. But they became furious. They were obsessed with proving that we were superior by not bringing the illness forth. That everyone in our family would be healthy including some hypothetical unborn baby.”

Chocho saw the train moving towards them.

“Yodo, get away from the tracks,” she commanded.

Yodo stared back, and the only thing Chocho saw in her eyes was sorrow.

“Yodo, get away from the tracks!”

“Come and get me.”

Chocho sprang forward, as the train came in racing speed towards them, hundred kilometres per hour. Chocho managed to grab Yodo’s hair and yanked her with her, throwing her to the side.

The train thundered past them, and the noise was so loud from screeching brakes and wheels against metal that Yodo had to scream when her sensitive hearing took the blow. She fell backwards, down on her rear and Chocho fell by her side when the shock wave from the train eventually hit her as well.

“I would not let you get away that easy,” Chocho panted. “Not after this. To take that way out would be the cheapest way to avoid your situation.”

Yodo took the opportunity to throw sand into Chocho’s face when they were sitting so close to each other, and threw herself upwards, away from Chocho. She cursed when the sand

“What would you then do in my situation?” Yodo asked.

“I’d join – “

Something inside Yodo snapped.

“Shut up!” she shrieked. “You know nothing! You don’t know what it feels like to always have been told you can go mad and when you didn’t, you were praised as a hero whose sole purpose was to prove a point against the Kazekage family by giving your parents a grandchild like some sort of breeding mare! I don’t want a fucking child!”

“Well, then don’t try for one,” Chocho said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Yodo, I will bring you back to Konoha and you will face a trial – “

Something dark covered Yodo’s eyes. She was now a predator caught in a leghold trap, trying to get away, but the more she tried, the more painful it became. And just like any predator pushed into a corner, with nowhere to run and lick the wounds in peace, she turned aggressive.

And an aggressive Yodo was a person to fear. She snapped, now with a tunnel vision thinking the only way to get peace would be through getting rid of Chocho all together.

Chocho was about to open her mouth to ask what happened when Yodo’s eyes turned darker when Yodo moved over to Chocho. The sudden attack came too sudden for Chocho to react – there was still sand in the corner of her eyes which stung – and her nose exploded in blood when Yodo hit her with her elbow right in her face.

“Fuck you,” Yodo hissed. “I am so tired. So tired. Get out of my sight” She looked down at Chocho, who was trying to cover her nose. “Say goodbye to your baby.”

Everything went in slow motion. Yodo, sitting on top of Chocho, raised a kunai she had hidden in her sleeve, ready to stab Chocho in her abdomen, just like the enemies before her had tried to do.

The first enemy had succeeded in impaling her flesh, when the second one tried the same, Chocho had grown stronger and managed to keep herself intact.

“No!” Chocho screamed.

She managed to grab the knife, newly sharpened and glistering clean – the twin kunai to the one Yodo had given to Shikadai to end his life with and tried to press the sharp metal away from her belly.

_Did she really mean it?_

_Am I pregnant?_

_Am I?_

_It’s not a dream?_

“Don’t touch me!” Chocho roared and closed her hand around the blade of the kunai, the only place she could grab during the microsecond of time she had to avoid getting stabbed.

She had held a knife in her hand before, had tried to avoid having someone cut her and dice her. But the previous enemy, Inojin’s aunt Kumiko, had only focused on one thing, and that was sheer force. Lucky for Chocho, but unlucky for the previous enemy, Chocho was also specialised in brute force. One cannot win Chocho by pressing a knife against her.

She might bleed, but her hand would never budge. Too bad her hand was already bleeding from having it cut on the glass shards in the train.

Yodo, however, was different. She didn’t use sheer strength. Yodo wasn’t a fighter using force, she was a cunning kunoichi who used other tactics.

Yodo shifted the direction of the knife, so the direction it was going in wasn’t straight down anymore. She pressed it sideways instead.

And sliced through Chocho’s hand.

The sudden relief of pressure when part of Chocho’s hand was cut off made Yodo fall to the side. Chocho just stared at her hand, which was becoming redder and redder of fresh blood for every second passing. She stared at three fingers and half a hand that was suddenly not there.

Then she realised what had happened when she stared at the place where there should have been two fingers, her ring finger and little finger, but now there were only two small, blood covered stumps.

She didn’t even feel pain.

She only screamed.

“Hand!” she screamed, not even finding words for the feeling that was going through her. She wanted to yell about her fingers, to realise what has happened, but she could only yell one thing. “Hand!”

Yodo stared at her, almost smirking at what she had done. Beside Chocho two dark stumps were lying, to stumps that didn’t even look human. They didn’t resemble fingers, when they were lying in the sand, dirty and pathetic.

“I – “ Yodo began when a strong gush of wind pushed her far away from Chocho. Chocho was too consumed by the sight of her hand to notice, but Yodo grabbed her own hair immediately to aim it at who had done this to her, the person who dared to attack her.

There was no one on the ground around them. Yodo lifted her gaze up to the sky and saw something she was not prepared to see.

There, as a black shadow against the shining sun, a dark omen filled with anger, with mighty wings spread out to keep him up in the air, she saw Inojin.

He was flying.

He was using his Ink Wings.

“What is that?” Yodo whispered for herself. She had seen Shinki being able to use wings of iron, but this was something completely else. Wings made of Ink and Oil.

Chocho could finally turn her head towards Inojin in the sky. Her vision was blurry of shock, but there was no mistake in who it was. Long, blond hair trailing down his chest, and blue, angry eyes staring at the scene in front of him and mouth curled into a snarl. And out of his shoulders, two giant purple and black wings made of Ink and Oil were spread out, steadily flapping through the air to keep him up.

His legs hung limply, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t need his legs now that he had his strong wing.

Inojin was panting, and his shoulders were moving constantly. Chocho almost feared he would fall down at any second, but he was there, and he was _flying._

“Inojin…” Chocho whispered through the excruciating pain in her hand. “You made it…”

Inojin had managed with more than just using the wings to fly. Beside him there was an Ink bird and standing on that Ink bird was Shikadai. He had his fan in his hand and a mouth turned into a frown. He had cast the wind jutsu on Yodo, saving Chocho from being stabbed,

Together they looked like the gods of life and death. Shikadai’s black hair wasn’t in the neat ponytails it usually was, it was loose and wild around his face.

“And Shikadai…” Chocho whispered. “You’re alive…”

“Shikadai,” Yodo breathed as Shikadai jumped down from the Ink bird onto the hot sand. He swayed a bit, but his legs did not buckle. His eyes darted towards Chocho as they widened in shock when he saw the amount of blood.

“Inojin!” he yelled and Inojin wasn’t a second too late when he dove down beside Chocho. His legs buckled beneath him, like they always did, and he slumped down on his butt by Chocho’s side when he folded the wings. He crashed by Chocho’s side.

“Oh shit,” he whispered when he took Chocho’s hand in his. “Holy shit, this is bad.”

“Hurts…” Chocho whined. Her hand was already swelling, her skin turning darker and darker. If Inojin hadn’t been used to seeing gruesome pictures during his training period to become a medic, or if he hadn’t removed a kunai from Shikadai’s thigh, or if he hadn’t seen his own hand being wrecked by a panther made of Oil, he would’ve probably thrown up from seeing what was left of Chocho’s fingers.

_We need to stop the bleeding now._

Sand had already made its way into the open wounds.

“No – “ Yodo yelled, tried to make her way towards Inojin and Chocho, when Shikadai opened his mouth.

“Yodo,” he said, and the strength in his voice was enough for her to stop and turn her attention towards him. “I am your opponent. Leave Chocho. She hasn’t done anything against you.”

“Hunting me down,” Yodo spat.

“Not compared to murder attempts,” Shikadai said. “It’s me you want. Come and get me.”

His heart pounded a thousand kilometres per hour as Yodo’s face turned into a grimace of anger.

“How – how is he?” Chocho asked when she stared at the bandage around his arm. “Did he try to – “

“Yes,” Inojin interrupted, trying to get a little flask of pure alcohol out of his bag. “He is fine so far.”

“Will he remain fine?” Chocho asked, voice coming out as a growl through the pain and worry.

Inojin threw a glance over at Shikadai, standing securely on two legs and the fan unfolded, showing all three beige stars against the black metal right in front of Yodo.

“I hope so,” he whispered. He knew they would need water to clean the wound, but they were out in a desert and among the blood of gore and flesh there was sand. He could temporarily shut the veins to stop the bleeding with his medical chakra, but he couldn’t let the dirt remain inside. He took a little bottle of pure alcohol in his hand. “Let me disinfect this first.”

“No, no, you have to help Shikadai – “ Chocho tried to wheeze.

“No medic ninja shall ever stop medical treatment until the lives of their party have come to an end,” Inojin said, the clause he knew at heart. Oh, how he had, while doing his medical education, dreamt of saving lives on the battlefield as a Jonin, skilled and respected. Those dreams were crushed, as life had taken a different turn, but Inojin was not going to let Chocho die of an infection because dirt had gotten into her hand when they were out in a desert without the chance to wash it with water.

Chocho screamed as alcohol made its way into her exposed flesh.

Shikadai had to tear his eyes away from his teammates, away from Chocho and Inojin, to lock his gaze onto Yodo.

“Quite a nasty trick you had there,” he said, and it was a miracle his voice wasn’t shaking. He was exhausted from coming all the way to the scorching sun but tried to hide it the best he could.

He placed the fan down against the ground to be able to lean against it, at the memory out there in the meadow, in the beautiful meadow where he could’ve died. His eyes filled with tears when he thought of how he had been so desperate that moment. Too desperate. “You… you made me…”

He had to rub his eyes with the ball of his hand when some of the tears formed in the corner of his eyes.

“A human can turn pretty desperate,” Yodo whispered. “You know that. You’ve blown up an entire building once.”

“Don’t compare this to that!” Shikadai snarled. “This has nothing to do with what I’ve been through before. Are you delusional now, huh? Do you have a voice telling you to – ”

He stopped.

Was she…?

“Yes, it has everything to do with that,” Yodo said. “Yes, I was hired by my own father to drive you over the edge. I wasn’t happy about it, but I had no choice! You had no choice either when you planted bombs, where hundreds could have died. In this case, only you would’ve – “

“Since you have no problems communicating with me, I will assume you’re not in a psych – “

“No!” Yodo yelled. “I am not insane like you. Not a single symptom and I was _praised_ for it.”

“Oh, so that makes you actions morally right? Because you are _sane_ , huh?” Shikadai snarled. His hands were shaking, but he had by some miracle managed to push the overwhelming anxiety away. That didn’t mean he was okay, but he was driven on adrenaline and fear.

Yodo only growled, brought her fingers together in a series of signs, signs meant to create a genjutsu.

 _She’s doing it again,_ Hama whispered into Shikadai’s left ear and Shikadai raised his fan from the ground. The sudden help from the hallucination gave him a sharp sense of confidence; something he hugely lacked overall. _Don’t let her hurt us anymore!_

Shikadai turned around in a pirouette, gaining wind under his fan, but Yodo had already heard his feet turn and the big breath he took to prepare himself for the movement, and could jump up. She jumped straight up in the air and mid-air, drew one single lock of hair into her hand.

Usually, Yodo used the majority of her hair to cast the sound jutsu, to gain maximum of attack power, and the fact she chose one single strand close to her face was a warning sign something was about to happen.

That strand of hair must be the catalyst of the terrible genjutsu. The soundwave that particular strand does after the activating signs is lethal to people it is directed towards.

She whipped the strand of hair.

“No!” Inojin’s screams pierced any soundwave’s Yodo created, but Shikadai couldn’t take in what he was hearing.

 _You must die!_ The voice commanded inside Shikadai’s head and he stumbled backwards, down on his rear, overwhelmed by the cruel voice which once again penetrated every corner of his mind, while Yodo came swishing down towards him.

Then something happened. Yodo wasn’t alone in the sky anymore.

Inojin was there up in the air with her.

And Inojin was furious.

Yodo managed to draw a surprised breath at the same time as wings of purple and black surrounded her. Her gaze was locked onto Inojin’s, too surprised to react in time. She had seen Inojin fly, but since all her focus had been on Shikadai, she hadn’t clocked when Inojin had spread his wings and taken to the sky.

Her green-blue eyes met Inojin’s sparkling blue, and his lips curled up to a smile.

Yodo didn’t know what the square his hands formed meant.

“Ninja Art. Mind Destruction Jutsu,” Inojin said, still mid-air, and the same second as the jutsu buried itself inside Yodo he let her go.

She crashed down in the hot sand beside Shikadai. Inojin lowered himself to the ground and _stabbed_ the two daggers he had on the outer rears of his wings, big daggers like claws sticking out among the feathers, into the sand.

The tattoos along his legs kept his lower body stable, kept his legs straight so he could stand, and the wings, stabbed into the ground kept his upper body upright and held the weight of his body.

The tattoos along with the wings worked almost as an exoskeleton for him. He could stand, all on his own, without holding onto anything when the wings stabbed into the ground kept him stable.

“Now you will know the pain you put Shikadai through,” Inojin whispered. Yodo was still trapped inside the Mind jutsu of Inojin’s. She wasn’t doing anything yet, but her whole mind was trapped and controlled by Inojin as of now. “You almost took him away from me. Do you know how despicable what you did was?”

Chocho had now managed to stand up. Her head was spinning, and she almost wanted to pass out, but the bleeding was stopped thanks to Inojin’s ninjutsu where he shut the veins and the only thing left was a burning, throbbing agony in her arm. Her eyes were focused on Shikadai, once again captured in the most horrible of prisons, the genjutsu which imitated the worst of his symptoms, the one demanding him to hurt himself.

She saw he was trapped in darkness as he stared in front of himself, lips forming words that never reached the world.

Chocho stumbled towards Shikadai and pressed her healthy hand – the hand which wasn’t missing fingers – against his forehead, smearing out hot, red blood over his forehead in the process. Shikadai looked at her with fright and pain in his eyes, and Chocho wondered if he even recognised her.

“Don’t touch me!” he managed to wheeze, but Chocho had already collected chakra in her fingers.

“Release!” she yelled, through the pain in her hand, through the fear and shock for almost having lost her friend.

Shikadai stared at her after the genjutsu released from his mind before his gaze flicked to the side.

“Oh no,” he said as he saw Inojin and Yodo behind Chocho. He quickly realised Inojin must’ve used the Mind Destruction jutsu instead of the more common Mind Transfer, since he stood right up with alive eyes.

_Stood._

Inojin _was standing_ on his own, when he had the daggers of the wings buried in sand to keep his upper body upright and holding up his body weight while the tattoos kept his legs stable.

 _Inojin…_ Shikadai thought, feeling a sudden rush of pride in his chest. Then reality caught up with him and his mouth managed to form the words.

“Inojin!” he yelled. “Her hair is her weapon – cut it off!”

Inojin’s corner of his mouth turned slightly upwards at the command, because this was where his skills were strong.

Yodo stared back at him as she reached for a kunai she had by her leg.

“No…” she whined by there was zero sympathy inside Inojin anymore. He raised his hands higher, still in the sign as his jutsu penetrated her mind. Yodo placed the kunai by the side of her throat and a momentary bloodlust inside Inojin awoke. What if he made herself cut her own throat?

Instead Yodo took a huge chunk of her hair with her other hand, straightening it, placed the kunai against it – and sliced it off.

“No!” she blurted out with more force as blond strands fell by her side. Still caught in Inojin’s jutsu she reached for more hair and let the kunai sever the long locks.

Shikadai managed to stand up, Hama babbling untiredly in his ear, as if someone stood on the left side of him, but in that moment he could easily block out anything the voice said. He had survived the worst of the worst, the sound of the destructive voice, and Hama was child’s play after that. He lifted his fan off the ground.

“Shikadai…” Chocho wheezed through gritted teeth and he turned his head towards her, smiling.

Oh, how Chocho loved seeing Shikadai smile. In that moment she felt, just as Shikadai had felt earlier, a beam of pride in her chest.

_He will make it. Our Shikadai._

When Shikadai closed in on Inojin, Inojin released Yodo from the terrible jutsu. She had now cut off all her hair, the length ending at her jawbone. No more strands to grab to conjure soundwaves and more importantly, the single strand that could conjure the genjutsu which Shikadai had fallen for. Her fringe had been removed in a single violent snap of the kunai.

“You know what this Ino-Shika-Cho-trio do to people who actively try to break us apart?” Shikadai asked Yodo, who was sitting in the sand, eyes big and terrified. “We kill them.”

He raised his fan, the gush of wind pushing Yodo down on her back. His head was spinning, now completely because of the dizziness from the blood-loss, which had come back after the fighting.

 _I will soon pass out._ That didn’t stop him from raising his hands higher.

The sun was shining straight at Yodo’s face, which was twisted in horror as a sharp edge of an iron fan came rushing against her.

In Kumo Chocho hadn’t hesitated when her hands pressed around Nora’s throat. By the edge of the ravine Inojin had thrown up a sharp kitchen knife right in the jugular vein, the important vein of the throat of Kira, his cousin. Neither of them had been particularly old; Nora in her twenties and Kira had been fourteen when they faced their deaths by the hands of the youngest generation of Ino-Shika-Cho.

They had always chosen death sentence as a way to defeat their enemies.

This would be no different. Yodo could’ve killed Shikadai and that made it all morally right in their world to slice her throat. A life for a life, that’s a shinobi’s code.

If the fan fell over her throat her entire head would be severed.

Chocho had killed.

Inojin had killed.

Now Shikadai would kill.

The final second before Yodo’s head would be severed Shikadai twisted his fan and –

_I’m passing out!_

The fan hit the sand right by Yodo’s head.

She screamed out of shock, as she had been prepared to die.

“Shikadai!” Chocho yelled when Shikadai fell beside Chocho, his brain deciding that it couldn’t fight anymore. His fan fell out of his hands and he groaned loudly when his head hit the sand.

Shikadai didn’t lose his conscious.

“Beat you again,” he whispered instead to Yodo. He forced his fingers into the Rat sign, even if it hurt like never before in his left hand to bend his fingers and _forced_ his chakra to cooperate. A hand of shadows made its way towards Yodo’s throat and closed around it. They were still both lying, side by side, in the sand, wounded, hurt and damaged, and Shikadai had a strangling hand limply around Yodo’s throat. The predator inside Yodo had died already. “Now you tell me your story. I am listening. And when you are done, I will decide if I want to punish you by death or not.”

Yodo twisted her head to look at him.

At the same time Chocho and Inojin saw two figured coming towards them from a distance.

Shinki and Araya were arriving.

“Tell me before I change my mind,” Shikadai mumbled. “You’re like me, aren’t you? You’ve got the same illness running in your family, isn’t that true?”

Yodo opened her mouth.

“Shikadai… if your mum will fight against my dad…” she slowly began. “She will die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, you read right. Chocho lost two of her fingers. Sorry, my best gal :(
> 
> Brb, I am currently scanning through all human languages to find words that describe how much I love this team and these kids. MY KIIIIIDSSS!!! ❤😭
> 
> Next chapter - Temari vs. Yomi


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